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George Now Returned From the Barn With Leather Straps 


With Thomas in 
Tennessee 


By 


EDWARD ROBINS 

Author of ** Chasing an Iron Horse,** **With Washington 
in Braddock*s Campaign,** **A Boy in Early 
I'irginia,** etc. 



PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 

PUBLISHERS 




v-r 

THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

! Copies Receivec 

28 1903 

^ght Entry 

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3 

COPY B. ' 



Copyright, 1903, 

By George W. Jacobs & Co. 
Published, September, igoj 


Preface 


In “ Chasing an Iron Horse,” were described 
the adventures of young George Knight during 
the famous locomotive chase in Georgia. In this 
new story are depicted some of the experiences 
of Knight whilst he was serving as an aide upon 
the staff of General George H. Thomas, one of 
the greatest commanders in the conflict between 
North and South. Some of the incidents are 
founded on actual occurrences. It is unneces- 
sary, however, to trace the dividing line between 
invention and history. The author’s main intent 
has been to reintroduce George Knight to his 
old friends, and to provide a second picture of ' 
the times when the Union and the Confederate 
soldiers, now friends forever, fought against each 
other with a valor that is now the common 
heritage of all sections of a reunited country. 

Edward Robins. 

Philadelphia^ June^ igoj. 


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Contents 


Chap. 

I. 

GREAT RISKS . 

. . 

Page 

9 

II. 

WITH THE ENEMY . 

. 

3Y 

III. 

A BREAK FOR LIBERTY . 

. 

63 

IV. 

ON TOWARDS MURFREESBORO 

94 

V. 

HOME AGAIN . 

. 

123 

VI. 

“GUERRILLAS” AT SHORT 

RANGE 

158 

VII. 

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT 

. 

186 

VIII. 

CHECKMATED . 

. 

216 

IX. 

AT THE RIGHT MOMENT 


252 

X. 

ONE MORE ADVENTURE 

• • 

290 


5 


Illustrations 


George now Returned from the Barn wdtb ^ 

Leather Straps Frontispiece 

“ What Have You Got Under There? ” . . . Facing page 26 
George Could not Help Looking Back and 

Shaking His Fist “ “ 94 

“I’ve Got a Mortgage on Pistol Practice 

Around Here ” “ “ 162 

“If That Fellow Stirs While I’m Gone, 

Shoot Him ” “ 300 / 


7 




With Thomas in Tennessee 


CHAPTEE I 

GREAT RISKS 

** Listen carefully to what I am going to say, 
and, if I speak in a low tone, remember that 
even Union walls may have Confederate ears ! ” 
The speaker, a short, thick-set man with black 
hair and beard, a slightly florid complexion and 
brilliant black eyes, was none other than Major- 
General William S. Rosecrans, one of the most 
famous Union commanders of the great Civil 
War. He was sitting, dressed in a fatigue uni- 
form, before a crackling wood-fire which gave 
the only illumination to a spacious but sparsely 
furnished room which formed the General’s 
office. The blinds of the apartment were 
closely drawn, hiding the falling snow that 
made the night without anything but pleasant 
9 


lo With Thomas in Tennessee 

to the unfortunate sentries who guarded the vast 
camp of Murfreesboro, Tennessee. 

Upon the right of Kosecrans, near the hearth, 
stood a still more interesting-looking figure, a 
tall, full-bearded officer whose stern yet not un- 
kindly blue eyes and heavy overhanging brows 
gave a curious individuality to his strong face, at 
the same time that his erect, well-proportioned 
form suggested the ideal soldier. In front of 
him, their features dimly lighted by the fire, 
stood a man of perhaps thirty years of age, 
of medium height and graceful figure, with 
smoothly-shaven face that indicated courage and 
resolution, and a handsome lad of sixteen, tall, 
frank of eye, and self-reliant. All three were 
in uniform. 

The full-bearded officer near Eosecrans was 
Major-General George H. Thomas, who was 
later to become known in history as the “ Rock 
of Chickamauga,” and already recognized as one 
of the most distinguished generals of the war. 
The man of thirty was a certain Captain Rufus 
Carton, of an Indiana infantry regiment, and the 
boy chanced to be an old friend, in the person of 
George Knight, whose previous adventures have 


Great Risks 1 1 

been described in the story entitled ‘‘ Chasing an 
Iron Horse.’’ 

George was now an aide, by special recom- 
mendation of President Lincoln, on the staff of 
General Thomas; and we find him, on this even- 
ing of February, 1863, stationed with the Army 
of’ the Cumberland, then under command of 
Rosecrans. This army, after engaging so suc- 
cessfully in the battle of Stone’s River, and 
defeating the intrepid Confederates under Gen- 
eral Bragg, was now in winter quarters in and 
around Murfreesboro, where, according to the 
designs of Rosecrans and of Thomas, who was 
Rosecrans’ right-hand officer and confidant, the 
troops were to be thoroughly reorganized, 
equipped, and prepared for a summer campaign 
against the enemy. The opposing armies, under 
Bragg and Rosecrans respectively, were lying in 
a semicircle, the Confederate right resting on 
the Cumberland River at Hartsville, above 
Hashville, and the left wing at “the Shoals,” 
below. 

“ Listen,” continued General Rosecrans, bend- 
ing forward, and lowering his voice to a whisper. 
“ Captain Carton, I have sent for you to under- 


12 


With Thomas in TenneSvSee 


take a perilous enterprise. I know from the 
colonel of your regiment, that you are a brave 
man — and so I have chosen you, from among 
hundreds of others, to do the work I’ve mapped 
out for you. In short,” went on the General, 
with a hesitating tone in his voice, ‘‘ I want you 
to play the spy ! ” He looked anxiously at the 
Captain, as much as to say : “ Have I frightened 
you ? ” 

Carton never flinched. He regarded Rose- 
crans with calm, untroubled eyes, as he replied : 
“ I’ll play anything — spy or soldier — to help the 
Union ! ” 

General Rosecrans gave a sigh of relief ; Gen- 
eral Thomas uttered a half-audible expression 
that sounded like “ good boy ! ” and George 
Knight gazed enthusiastically from Carton to 
Rosecrans. I’ve played the spy once myself,” 
he thought, “and I’d give anything to try it 
again.” 

There was a brief pause. General Rosecrans 
rose to his feet, shook Carton solemnly by the 
hand, and sat down once again by the fire. 
“You’re the kind of stuff we want in this war,” 
he said, “ and we want plenty of it, too, for our 


Great Risks 


13 

Southern enemies — whom, one day, I hope to 
call friends — are full of grit and full of fight.” 

“ This war is to be no child’s play,” observed 
General Thomas, with a sort of veiled twinkle 
in his blue eyes. “ The man who said that one 
battle and ten thousand troops would end it was 
no prophet. Eh, George ? ” 

“ I hope it won’t stop yet, sir,” answered George, 
who was ingenuously boyish enough to wish that 
he might have plenty more of adventures. 

“Don’t worry on that score,” said General 
Thomas. “ The end is still a long way off. In 
the meantime, George, General Rosecrans has 
asked me to let him have a young fellow of your 
age to assist Captain Carton in this new enter- 
prise, and I have mentioned you — although 
heaven knows” — here the lips of the speaker 
slightly trembled — “I am not anxious to run 
you into any danger. You have served on my 
staff as an assistant secretary, and proved a good 
one, too, — and if I consulted my own inclinations 
I’d keep you exactly where you are. But you 
are needed for an emergency, and so I must give 
you up — although only for a few days, I hope.” 
Yet as he spoke his manner suggested that the 


14 With Thomas in Tennessee 

possibility of the boy’s returning in a few days 
was by no means certain. 

George’s intelligent face beamed with the light 
of enthusiasm. He was very fond of General 
Thomas, but since he had joined his staff, three 
weeks before, he had not found any of the 
adventures which he longed for. Here was his 
chance. “ Let me go ! ” he cried excitedly. 

“ Don’t be in too much of a hurry,” whispered 
Eosecrans. You may never come back.” 

General Thomas brushed his right hand across 
his eyes. Was he trying to hide a tear ? “Ex- 
plain to the boy and Captain Carton what is 
expected of them,” he said, almost huskily, turn- 
ing to Eosecrans. 

“Here’s the situation in a nutshell,” whis- 
pered the latter. “It is advisable, for military 
and strategic reasons, that we receive accurate 
information as to the strength of the Confeder- 
ate left wing, which is commanded by General 
Yam Dorn, with his headquarters at Spring Hill, 
some forty miles from here to the westward. 
There is but one way to secure that information, 
and that is by sending a spy or spies into Yan 
Dorn’s camp.” 


Great Risks 


15 

George’s eyes glistened. He bad played the 
spy once before in his career, when a member of 
General Mitchell’s army, and here was a chance 
to enact the role again. For the moment all 
thoughts of the danger of the thing vanished. 
Captain Carton’s expression never changed. He 
merely gave the two Generals a military salute, 
as he said confidently : “ I’m at your service 
always.” 

“And you^ lad?” asked Rosecrans, looking 
very hard at George. 

“ Oh,” answered the boy with enthusiasm, 
“ I’m ready to start at once ! It will be fine ! ” 

Thomas regarded George approvingly, yet, as 
it seemed, almost sadly. “Humph,” growled 
Rosecrans ; “ don’t be too gay about it until 
you’re safe out of the woods — or back again 
within the Union lines.” 

At this moment there came from outside the 
house the sharp report of a musket and then a 
cry of anguish. The men in the room started, 
and General Thomas walked quickly to one of 
the windows, raised the blind, and pushed up the 
sash. “ What’s the trouble ? ” he called out to a 
sentry. George, turning his face towards the 


l6 With Thomas in Tennessee 

window, could see that the snow was still falling 
monotonously. The sentry made some reply, 
which neither the boy, nor Carton nor Eosecrans 
heard, after which General Thomas shut the 
window, replaced the blind, and returned to the 
fireplace. “A spy from the Confeilerates has 
been caught trying to crawl through the snow 
into our lines,” he explained grimly ; “ and they 
shot him — that’s all.” 

‘‘A spy’s lot is not always a happy one,” 
observed Eosecrans, gazing steadfastly at the 
Captain and the boy as if he were determined to 
test their courage. But the two never flinched. 
So the sturdy General continued: “I want two 
spies in this case rather than one, because sus- 
picion is not as likely to fall upon two as on one. 
Then, too, the plan which General Thomas and 
myself have invented requires two persons to 
execute it — and if one of the two happens to be 
a boy so much the better, for an enemy is not 
quick to suspect a boy of being a spy.” 

General Thomas stepped forward and put an 
arm on George Knight’s shoulder. ‘‘George,” 
he said, very feelingly and slowly, “ I’ve been 
twice tempted to withdraw my permission for a 


Great Risks 


^7 

young chap like you to engage in this risky 
enterprise, but when I realized how much de- 
pended upon it, in the way of supplying us with 
information from the enemy, and how useful you 
might be, I felt that I had no right to draw you 
back. After all, we are all risking our lives, 
young and old, for our country.’* 

“Don’t be afraid for me,” replied George 
cheerily, “ I’ll turn up again like a bad penny.” 

“ And so will I,” put in Captain Carton ; “ so 
you needn’t waste any sentiment over us. Only 
tell us what we are to do — for I am getting as 
interested in the plot as if I were reading the 
first chapter of a detective story.” 

Rosecrans laughed, or rather chuckled, and 
then beckoned to the two future spies to take 
chairs and draw up near the fire. This they did, 
while Thomas maintained his standing attitude 
at one side of the hearth. The light from the 
fire cast on the conspirators a weird refiection 
which seemed peculiarly appropriate considering 
the secrecy of the proceedings. 

“Carton,” whispered Rosecrans, “I want you 
and Knight to do a little clever acting on this 
expedition. In short, I want you to masquerade 


l8 With Thomas in Tennessee 

as farmer and farmer’s boy — and show how well 
you can deal in chickens — and eggs — and 
pork ! ” 

A smile hovered around the corners of Eufus 
Carton’s firm mouth. “ When I first grew up I 
tried farming over in Indiana, and made a 
failure of it,” he remarked. “ That ought to be 
of some help to me.” 

“And I lived for a year on a farm in my 
native state, Ohio, some time after my mother 
died,” said George. 

“ Then I reckon you know a plucked chicken 
when you see it,” drily interrupted Thomas. 

“Well,” pursued Kosecrans, “I shall give 
orders to my commissary department to-morrow 
morning to procure a team of horses and an old 
wagon, which they must fill with all the killed 
chickens, eggs, and bacon that can be picked up 
either in or out of camp, or begged, borrowed, or 
stolen. The following morning you are to be 
driving these things on the road to Spring Hill 
— you. Carton, looking for all the world like a 
Tennessee farmer, and George here impersonat- 
ing a young farm-hand. And right here let me 
ask you this : do you think either of you could 


Great Risks 


19 

imitate the lazy drawl of the real Tennessean 
farmer hereabouts ? 

‘‘I might make a bluff at it,’’ answered 
Carton. 

“A bluff won’t do,” said General Rosecrans 
with decision. “ A poor imitation would be 
worse than none at all, and might bring j^ou to 
grief, and the death of a spy, in short order.” 

“ Wall, I reckon I might sort o’ pass myself 
off as a Tennessee ‘ white- trash,’ ” said George 
Knight. His companions looked at him in 
admiring surprise. In drawl and intonation his 
voice so closely resembled one of the country- 
men whom it was necessary to counterfeit, that 
it was hard to believe it was only an imitation. 

Rosecrans tapped the boy lightly on the knee. 
“ That will do,” he said. ‘‘ You’re to the manner 
born. How did you get such a good Tennessee 
accent?” 

‘‘I haven’t watched the old farmers coming 
into camp for nothing,” explained George. 
“ And then I always was able to imitate 
dialects,” he added, remembering how a few 
months before, when he took part in the famous 
capture of a locomotive in Georgia, he had saved 


20 With Thomas in Tennessee 

a situation by changing his voice into that of a 
negro. 

Thomas cast a searching, enquiring look at 
Captain Carton. “ Captain,” he said at last, “ let 
us hear how you can speak like a Tennessean.” 

“I won’t be a hypocrite,” returned Carton. 
‘‘ I might possibly speak the ‘ Hoosier ’ dialect of 
my own state of Indiana, but when it comes to 
Tennessee, I’m done for — so long as General Kose- 
crans says, very truly, that a mere bluff would 
not do.” 

“ I’ve got an idea,” grunted Kosecrans. 
“George Knight can speak the dialect of this 
region perfectly, as he has just shown — and the 
Captain can’t speak it at all. Well, let Knight 
do all the talking on this coming trip, and let 
the Captain be his dumb elder brother, who 
runs the farm and who has been speechless from 
birth. Eh, Thomas ? ” 

“ A very safe plan,” rejoined General Thomas. 
“Don’t let Carton open his mouth within the 
enemy’s lines on any consideration. One false 
accent — one word with a Yankee ‘twang’ — 
might put his life and that of George in 
jeopardy.” 


Great Risks 


21 


‘‘You’re quite right,” muttered Captain Car- 
ton ; “ I’m willing to play my part as the 
dumbest man in Tennessee, and allow George 
Knight to do all the talking.” And thus the 
occupants of the room conversed in low tones, 
late into the night, as they huddled close to the 
fire and arranged every detail of the expedition 
which, it was hoped, would result in supplying 
Generals Rosecrans and Thomas with all needed 
imformation as to the exact strength of General 
Yan Dorn’s wing of Bragg’s army. At length 
General Thomas, who had finally consented to 
sit down, looked at his watch. “ It’s nearly one 
o’clock,” he said. “ I think everything is settled 
— and if there are any final instructions, they 
can be given to-morrow night — eh, Rosecrans ? 
They must leave about midnight, for it is a long 
drive over bad roads.” 

“ Yes,” answered Rosecrans, as he rose to his 
feet, walked to one of the windows, and, rais- 
ing the blind, gazed out into the night. The 
snow had ceased, and a few stars peered out 
wanly upon the wintry landscape. “ I think 
everything can be arranged. And good luck to 
the two brave fellows who are going to take 


22 With Thomas in Tennessee 

their lives in their hands to help their country ! ” 
He turned and shook first Carton and then 
George Knight warmly by the hand, and was 
followed in this ceremony by General Thomas. 
It was a solemn moment. Within the next hour 
all four of the participants of this conference 
had retired to their respective quarters, and were 
sleeping as peacefully as if there were no such 
things as war or spies, or differences of opinion 
between Korth and South. 

****** 
About three o’clock in the afternoon of the 
second day succeeding the interview just de- 
scribed, a rattling farmer’s wagon, drawn by two 
sturdy horses, could be seen slowly making its 
way along a muddy, slushy road leading to Spring 
Hill, within less than five miles from that place. 
The vehicle was filled with provisions over 
which a piece of canvas had been placed, as if 
to conceal the good things from the too-eager 
eyes of some passing Southerner who might be 
tempted to appropriate a few of them without 
asking so much as “ by your leave.” In the seat 
at the front of the wagon were a man and boy 
who, although they presented to strangers the 


Great Risks 


23 


appearance of the traditional “ hayseeds,” we, 
being in the secret, may venture to recognize as 
Captain Rufus Carton and Lieutenant George 
Knight. 

Carton was dressed in a faded slouch hat, a 
rough blue flannel shirt, a shabby pair of cordu- 
roy trousers, held up by dirty “ galluses ” or sus- 
penders, and formidable-looking high boots. The 
costume of George, who was driving, Avas of the 
same general character, excepting that he wore 
an ancient straw hat, and had, instead of cordu- 
roy trousers, those made of rough brown cloth. 
At the feet of the two travelers, behind the 
dashboard, reposed two old overcoats, which had 
been discarded by them because the weather had 
suddenly become quite warm and produced a de- 
cided thaw in the roads and snow-covered fields. 

“ Well,” observed Carton, looking quizzically 
at George, “ as Tennessee farmers I think we are 
successes.” 

Wait,” laughed the boy, giving the horses a 
gentle flick with his whip. Our success will de- 
pend on whether we’ll get out of Yan Dorn’s 
camp with our skins on or not.” 

“ If they will leav^ us our skins,” said Carton, 


24 With Thomas in Tennessee 

whose sense of humor was never spoiled by the 
imminence of danger, “ I don’t care what they 
do with our clothes. I know, for my part, that 
I feel precious dirty in mine.” 

‘‘ I would never believe it, to look at you,” an- 
swered Knight, trying to speak gravely. “ You 
seem as if the clothes exactly suited you.” 

“ A doubtful compliment,” objected the Cap- 
tain, and then, seeing that George was having a 
little joke at his expense, he burst out laughing 
— a proceeding in which he was at once joined 
by the boy. 

“ Come, don’t let us forget business,” said Car^ 
ton, after a pause, as they rumbled along the 
slushy road past a shanty at Avhose door stood a 
lazy negro woman contentedly smoking a corn- 
cob pipe. “ You understand what you must do 
when you reach the picket lines of the Confeder- 
ate camp ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied George. “ Explain that you 
are a farmer named Stone, who has fresh chick- 
ens and eggs, and bacon, to sell, and ask to be 
taken to General Yan Dorn’s headquarters at 
once. There I will ask permission for you to go 
through the eamp selling your provisions — and 


Great Risks 


25 

while I am handing out the things and taking in 
the money, you can be keeping your eyes open 
and seeing how the place is fortified, and so on.” 

“ Exactly. You’ve learned your lesson per- 
fectly.” 

“ And for mercy’s sake,” urged George, “don’t 
forget that you are dumb.” 

“ Dumb from the cradle, my boy,” laughed 
the Captain. “ So dumb that — but look ! ” He 
clutched George by the arm. 

Down the road, not half a mile in front of 
them, came galloping four horsemen in gra}'' uni- 
form. The adventure of the two spies was be- 
ginning in dead earnest. 

“ They probably won’t stop us,” muttered Car- 
ton, “ but if they do, tell them we are farmers 
taking things into camp. We might as well 
begin now as later. And don’t forget your 
Tennessee accent, if you value your life.” 

“All right,” answered George calmly. His 
pulse beat quickly, and the blood surged into his 
handsome face, in pleasurable anticipation of the 
commencement of danger. For the first time 
since he had joined the staff of General Thomas 
he was to be put upon his mettle. 


26 


With Thomas in Tennessee 


Nearer and nearer came the four Confederate 
cavalrymen until one of them, a tall, black- 
bearded fellow who rode a few feet in front of 
his companions, seemed to be bearing down di- 
rectly upon the team of the supposed farmers. 
George pulled in his horses, so that they came to 
a standstill. The next moment the cavalryman 
was upon them and only averted a collision by 
the dexterous way in which he reined in and 
brought his own animal upon its haunches. 

“ Hi, you fools,” he shouted, “ why do you keep 
to the middle of the road ? AVhen you see cav- 
alry coming, can’t you pull to one side ? ” 

By this time he had quieted his perspiring 
horse, and the other three Confederates had 
drawn up directly behind him. 

“ Your pardon, pardner,” drawled George laz- 
ily, trying to put into his face as stupid an ex- 
pression as he could. ‘‘ Yer got on me so mighty 
quick I hadn’t time.” Carton, who spoke never 
a word, marveled at the boy’s admirable imita- 
tion of a Tennessee countryman. 

I always did hear that a Tennessee hayseed 
was the stupidest fellow on the face of the earth,” 
growled the soldier, turning to his fellows. “ The 



What Have You Got Under There?” 




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Great Risks 


27 


next time you hear cavalry of the Confederate 
States of America approaching have the wit to 
turn out your slow-coach.” It was plain from 
the man’s accent that he had been born and bred 
in Virginia. 

“Come, boys,” he said. “Don’t keep foolin’ 
here.” And putting spurs into his horse he passed 
to one side of the wagon, followed by the others. 
But just as Carton was congratulating himself 
that this incident had been ended the leader sud- 
denly reined in his horse again. 

“ What have you got under there ? ” he asked 
sharply, as he looked at the canvas covering un- 
der which the provisions were concealed, and then 
fixed his glance on Carton. The latter pointed 
to his lips, in an aimless sort of way, and shook 
his head. 

“My brother’s dumb,” said George, quickly 
coming to the rescue. “ This here wagon’s got 
chickens and stuff which we’re a-taking to yer 
camp to sell.” 

“ Chickens and stuff ! ” repeated the horseman, 
almost as if his mouth watered at the very 
thought of such provender. “And what’s the 
^ stuff 


28 With Thomas in Tennessee 

‘‘ Eggs and flitches of bacon,” explained George, 
lifting up the piece of canvas as he spoke, in 
hopes of propitiating the Confederate. There, 
on the floor of the wagon, were deposited baskets 
of eggs innumerable, plucked chickens, a quantity 
of bacon, and last, but by no means least, a basket 
of potatoes. 

The other cavalrymen were, by this time, on 
the right side of the wagon, and they all stared, 
in a hungry, eager fashion, at the provisions. 

“ By Jove ! ” cried the leader. “ Here’s a find ! 
We fellows have been half starving in camp, and 
now we run right into a nest of chicken and eggs 
and some potatoes. Here, boys — let’s condemn 
these things right now, and I’ll dismount and 
drive the wagon back to our regiment. How the 
men will cheer ! ” The horseman chuckled, as he 
could see, by anticipation, several hundred ill-fed 
men reveling in the contents of the wagon after 
the negro cook of the regiment had prepared them 
for the feast. 

Here was a risky situation ! It flashed through 
the minds of Carton and George Knight at the 
same time that if the provisions in the wagon 
were carried off by these cavalrymen there would 


Great Risks 


29 


be no excuse to go into Yan Dorn’s camp, and, 
such being the case, the would-be spies must re- 
turn ingloriously to the headquarters of the 
Union Army. “That will never do,” thought 
George. 

Already the Confederates were fondly finger- 
ing the contents of the cart. “ Boys,” shouted 
the leader, in great glee, “ I feel twenty pounds 
fatter already. What a supper we will have to- 
night, eh ? ” His companions exchanged grunts 
of satisfaction. 

Carton gave one agonized look at George which 
seemed to say : “ I can’t speak, but do say some- 
thing to stop these men, or the whole game is up.” 

George read his thoughts, as was plainly evi- 
dent by the reassuring glance he furtively be- 
stowed upon the Captain. “ Look here, pardner,” 
he said, in a slow, halting voice, in which the 
farmer’s dialect was well preserved ; “ this yere 
wagon load is contracted fer by General Yan 
Dorn, an’ ef ye touch one o’ these chickens, or 
even so much as an egg, ye’ll get yourselves in 
trouble with him — that’s all I got to say to ye ! ” 

“ What’s that ? ” demanded the leader. “ Does 
the General know about these things ? ” 


30 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Ye can jest bet he does,” answered George. 
“ Yan Dorn has a’ appetite, jest like you uns, and 
ef you stop this load going to him I won't answer 
for what’ll happen to you.” 

The four men stopped fingering the provisions 
and the leader, shifting uncomfortably in his 
saddle, said, rather peevishly: “Does the Gen- 
eral expect to eat all that’s in this wagon ? ” 

“No,” answered George, “but he’s got a 
staff.” 

“Yes, and a pretty lean one,” grumbled the 
horseman. “ Come, boys, let us be off, so long 
as these hayseeds are so precious stingy with 
Yan Dorn’s larder. We must feed at some 
farmhouse to-night — and to-morrow, when we 
are in the Federal camp at Murfreesboro, per- 
haps the Yankees will give us a good square 
meal.” 

The four men gazed at the contents of the 
wagon in such a hungry, woe-begone way that 
Carton could not resist taking pity on them. 
Turning in his seat he reached down his right 
hand and pulled out two fat capons which he 
silently presented to the leader with a bow 
which would have been quite worthy of a Beau 


Great Risks 


31 

Brummel or a Lord Chesterfield. Fortunately 
for hiin, however, the Confederates did not stop 
to reason that his graceful manner was hardly 
appropriate to a backwoodsman ; they were too 
intent in regarding, with glistening eyes, the two 
capons to pay any attention to the faultless bow 
of the giver. 

“ Good for you, dummy,” cried the leader, in 
great delight. “ You’re not such a skinflint after 
all.” Thereupon he coolly opened his gray coat, 
divested himself of a thin black necktie, pro- 
ceeded to tie the fowls’ legs together, and finall}^ 
hung them around his neck, so that a capon 
dangled carelessly on each side of his chest. 
“ There’ll be a good supper for us four to-night,” 
he continued. “Good-bye and good luck to you 
— and may the General give you fifty dollars 
apiece for every chicken you sell him.” 

In another minute the four cavalr^nnen had 
dashed off with a speed that threatened to shake 
the bodies of the deceased capons quite to pieces. 

“ Let me congratulate you, George,” said Car- 
ton, with enthusiasm. “ You handled that diffi- 
cult situation nobly.” 

The boy flushed with pleasure. He had al- 


32 With Thomas in Tennessee 

ready begun to be very fond of Captain Carton, 
and this praise, therefore, delighted him. As for 
the Captain, he had already learned a great deal 
of George’s history. He knew that he was an 
Ohio boy who had so distinguished himself in 
the scheme to capture a Confederate engine in 
Georgia that he had won the commendation of 
Lincoln, and so he was by no means surprised at 
the presence of mind that his companion had 
just exhibited. 

“ What did those fellows mean by saying they 
were going to the Union camp ? ” asked George, 
as he started his team in motion once again in 
the direction of Yan Dorn’s headquarters. 

“ Guess they were on a flag of truce, to see 
about an exchange of some prisoners,” suggested 
the Captain, whose surmise, as it chanced, was 
perfectly correct. 

They had jogged along for more than ten 
minutes when they overtook upon the road a 
weary pedestrian whose well-worn and bedrag- 
gled uniform proclaimed him to be a Confederate 
private. He was a man of middle-age with a 
gray moustache and “goatee,” sharp, thin fea- 
tures and penetrating black eyes. 


Great Risks 


33 

“ Are you going to Spring Hill ? ” he de- 
manded, as the wagon drew alongside of him. 

“ Thar’s war we’re be goin’, pardner,” rejoined 
George, with his best Tennessee intonation. 

‘‘ Then give me a lift, won’t you ? I’ve walked 
it all the way from the Yankee camp at Mur- 
freesboro — was taken prisoner at Stone’s River 
last December, and made my escape three days 
ago — and I’m pretty tired, I can tell you — 
skulking along for a good many miles trying to 
avoid Federal cavalry and suchlike.” 

“ Get in between us here,” said George, cheer- 
ily. “ There’s room in the seat.” As he spoke 
he and Captain Carton made a place between 
them for the fugitive. The man, with a mut- 
tered exclamation of thanks, sprang upon the 
wagon, and sat down in the seat designated. 
As he did so his rather fox-like features suddenly 
seemed illumined by a new interest, and his eyes 
searched those of George Knight’s, as if he 
would read them through and through. 

‘‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” 
asked the Confederate. 

George gave an involuntary shiver. Had this 
private seen him in Rosecrans’s camp, and would 


34 With Thomas in Tennessee 

he recognize in him a Unionist? The same 
thought occurred to Carton, who cast upon 
George a sidelong glance which plainly said: 
“ Caution ! ” 

“ Uot that I know of,” answered the boy, with 
an assumption of carelessness. “My brother 
here’s a farmer who’s got a patch four miles 
from here, in this yere county, and we doan’ get 
away from it very much. And he’s dumb — 
from a baby.” 

“ You don’t say,” observed the Confederate, 
regarding the Captain with an expression that 
was meant to be sympathetic. “ That’s too bad.” 

There was a pause. “I certainly would like 
to know where I saw you before,” said the 
stranger at last, turning another critical look 
upon George Knight. “Your face does puzzle 
me.” 

George felt uneasy and angry at the same 
time. He would dearly have loved to throw the 
man from the wagon and drive on. But pru- 
dence compelled him to smile and appear per- 
fectly comfortable, as any Tennessee country 
boy should have done, under the circumstances. 
One hasty exclamation, as he clearly perceived, 


Great Risks 


35 

might have betrayed him to this inquisitive 
Southerner. 

“Don’t reckon I ever seen you afore,” said 
the lad, with utter disregard of all rules of 
grammar. 

George touched his horses with the whip, and 
the three occupants of the wagon drove on 
quietly for several minutes without a word being 
spoken between them. But all three were think- 
ing very deeply. 

“I certainly have seen that young fellow 
somewhere,” the Confederate was saying to 
himself. 

“ Confusion on that ‘ Johnny,’ ” thought Car- 
ton. “ Can he have any suspicions about us ? ” 

“It would be too provoking for anything,” 
George was thinking, “ if he saw me in camp at 
Murfreesboro.” And although the boy was brave 
— as brave as any one in the Army of the Cum- 
berland — the idea that he might be recognized 
as a Union soldier, at the very minute that he 
was within firing distance of the Southern lines, 
was not reassuring. There is nothing either 
pleasant or romantic in being hung as a spy. 

Suddenly the Confederate placed his right 


36 With Thomas in Tennessee 

hand on George’s shoulder, and, turning full upon 
him his piercing eyes, cried : “ At last I remem- 
ber where I saw you. It was in Kosecrans’s camp 
four days ago ! ” 

“ It’s come at last I ” thought the boy. But he 
never faltered, as he looked calmly at the Cap- 
tain. “ In Eosecrans’s camp ? ” he repeated, 
trying to collect his wits. 

“I’m sure of it,” repeated the Southerner. 
“ Your face is not one to be easily forgotten I ” 


CHAPTER II 


WITH THE ENEMY 

Captain Carton felt impelled to take the 
private by the throat and throw him out of the 
wagon. It seemed so hard to come so near the 
Confederate camp in safety and then have a 
“ whippersnapper ” like this foxy soldier destroy 
all his plans — and perhaps put George and him- 
self on the gallows into the bargain. But he 
wisely restrained himself, and was content to 
look at the stranger with a dull, vacant stare, as 
if he (Carton) were the veriest ignoramus in all 
Tennessee. 

In the meantime George had recovered his 
presence of mind. “ Reckon ye did see me there 
four days ago,” he drawled. “ Ma brother here 
and me were a-sellin’ o’ some turkeys to General 
Rosecrans.” And he added to himself : “ I won- 
der how that will take ? ” 

The private looked long and keenly at the face 
of the boy. George stood the scrutiny like a 
37 


38 With Thomas in Tennessee 

true soldier ; he never stirred a muscle. He was 
not accustomed to dissemble ; he was, in reality, 
the soul of truth, but in an instance like this, 
where he was serving the cause of his country, 
he had no scruple in doing all that he could to 
throw an enemy off the scent. At last the Con- 
federate turned away his eyes, and answered, in 
a half-satisfied tone : “ I suppose that’s how I 
saw you.” 

“ Does he really believe George ? ” thought 
Carton. “ I hope so, for the sake of our necks.” 

Hot another word was said for some time. 
Finally the private, who explained that his name 
was William Lawrence, said, in a very friendly 
way, “ I reckon you two are going into camp at 
Spring Hill to sell what’s in your wagon ? ” 

“Jes’ so,” answered George. “We kinder 
thought as we’d sell these yere chickens, and 
eggs, and bacon, to General Yan Dorn.” 

A little later the wagon had reached the vil- 
lage of Spring Hill, a place which the Confed- 
erates had strongly fortified by the erection of 
two forts, manned by six guns each, with nearly 
forty additional guns defending the camp, and 
inhabited by 3,200 troops of which 2,000 were 


39 


With the Enemy 

cavalry. After due explanations from George 
the team was allowed within the lines by the 
sentries, and Lawrence, jumping down from his 
seat, disappeared with a word of muttered thanks. 
A young officer came walking out from a two- 
story frame house — the wagon was now drawn 
up in the main street of the village — and learned 
from several privates who surrounded the vehicle 
what was the cause of this unexpected visit. 

‘‘ So you want to sell these things to General 
Yan Dorn?’’ he asked, addressing himself to 
Carton. 

‘‘ Brother’s dumb,” interposed George. “ Yes ; 
we kind o’ thought as the Gen’ral might take 
half o’ this stuff off our hands, an’ we could 
peddle the rest through the camp.” 

“ Stuff ! ” repeated the officer. He was a 
pleasant-looking, dapper little man, and there was 
a mirthful chuckle in his voice. “ You call those 
chickens and eggs stuff ? I call them food for 
angels. General Yan Dorn’s very busy just now, 
but I’ll engage to buy for him half what you have 
in that wagon. We don’t get things like these 
every day. ^ Stuff,’ indeed ! ” And he laughed 
as though he had heard the best joke in years. 


40 With Thomas in Tennessee 

The trade was soon effected. In return for 
half the contents of the wagon, which were re- 
moved by several orderlies at the direction of 
the young officer, George and Carton found 
themselves well provided with Confederate 
notes. These notes were not very valuable, 
owing to the depreciation which had been going 
on for some time in Southern money, but that 
fact made little difference to the spies. They had 
not come to Spring Hill for pecuniary profits. 

Having accomplished this much of their expe- 
dition successfully the two adventurers were told 
that the}^ might go through the camp, from tent 
to tent, and dispose of the remainder of their 
produce among the men. Nor did it take long 
to do it. The soldiers, most of them cavalry- 
men, and some of them without the vestige of a 
regular Confederate uniform (the place of v,^hich 
was taken by sadly worn-out civilian clothes) 
came running out from their tents when they 
heard George’s welcome cry of “ Chickens ! 
Eggs ! ” They crowded around the wagon, with 
pathetic exclamations of delight, as of men half 
starved, and seemed to threaten to mob the sup- 
posed farmers, and to carry off their wares bodily. 


41 


With the Enemy 

“ I’ll be combusticated ! ” yelled one fellow, 
whose capacious clothes were three or four sizes 
too large for his lank body. “I haven’t seen 
such a lay out since I came up from Georgia to 
this pesky war.” He picked up, as he spoke, 
one of the chickens from the bottom of the 
wagon and fondled it as he might have done a 
baby. 

“ Yer kin have him fer twenty dollars Confed- 
erate money,” said George, who was standing up 
in his seat watching Carton as the Indianian 
walked up and down the wagon arranging what 
was left of the provisions. 

‘‘ Twenty dollars ! ” cried the Confederate, in 
a tone which was a curious combination of anger 
and hunger. “ I ain’t got fifty cents in any 
kind o’ money ! ” 

The boy, through his natural kindness of heart, 
came very near forgetting his part. In short, he 
was just on the point of presenting the chicken 
to the man, money or no money, when a warm- 
ing glance from Carton told him that such a 
piece of generosity might bring suspicion upon 
him. Farmers were not in the habit, either in 
Tennessee or elsewhere, of giving the produce of 


42 With Thomas in Tennessee 

their farms away, unless forced to do so by the 
stern orders of some foraging party. 

“ Come, Johnny,” said George, changing his 
tactics, “ put that there chicken back in the wagon 
ef ye hain’t got the money, an’ let some other fel- 
low as has take it.” 

‘‘ What ? ” exclaimed the man, with a mis- 
chievous smile playing about his mouth, “ do 
you think I’m a going to give up a hen once I’ve 
got her safe ? ” He gave a cackle, in exact imita- 
tion of an old barnyard fowl, and stroked his 
prize with a mock fondness that caught the 
fancy of the crowd. 

“ Hurrah ! Hurrah for Jake ! ” cried one of 
the soldiers. ‘‘ Keep the old rooster, Jake — the 
more the merrier.” Then the Confederates 
roared with laughter. 

“ Jake ” bowed in mock solemnity, patted the 
chicken, and then, coolly stretching out his right 
hand, whilst he held on to the fowl Avith his left, 
he seized four or five eggs from a basket in the 
wagon and deposited them quickly in a pocket of 
his coat. 

“ Put those back ! ” shouted George, trying to 
look very angry. ‘ As for “ dumb ” Carton he 


With the Enemy 43 

shook his fist at the hungry thief. The crowd — 
which now numbered nearly twenty-five or 
thirty soldiers — burst into another loud guffaw. 
One man, indeed, ran forward and snatched 
a large piece of bacon which he threw up 
in the air. As it descended five or six men 
made a rush for it, amid loud laughter, but it 
fell on the ground and was trampled under 
foot. 

“ What right has a fool to bring good things 
into camp, right under our noses,” cried a burly 
cavalryman, when weVe no sand to pay for it ? 
Let’s help ourselves, boys ! ” Suiting the action 
to the word he deliberately helped himself to 
two fat chickens. 

This boldness acted as quickly on the men as a 
lighted match acts on gunpowder. With a cheer 
and then a ringing yell they descended upon the 
wagon. Almost in the twinkling of an eye they 
had carried off its contents and were hurrying 
back into their several tents. George turned 
towards Carton, as the last soldier had disap- 
peared, and laughed. “ There’s no trouble in 
getting rid of our goods,” he said. 

Carton walked from the end of the empty 


44 With Thomas in Tennessee 

wagon over to the seat. “ Here comes an of- 
ficer,” he whispered, between closed teeth. 
‘‘ Pretend that we are very angry.” 

So saying he jumped to the ground, accom- 
panied by George, just in time to receive a 
young Lieutenant who came running up to ask 
the cause of the recent noise. 

“ What’s the trouble ? ” asked the Confederate, 
surveying in surprise the two strangers and the 
empty wagon. 

“ It’s a mean trick ! ” answered the boy, as he 
tried to look very angry. “ Me and my brother 
here — he’s dumb from the cradle, sir — were al- 
lowed to go through camp to sell our chickens and 
things — sech as the General didn’t buy — and a 
lot of the soldiers have scuttled off with ’em 
without givin’ us a red cent.” 

Carton shook his head violently in the affirm- 
ative, in order to express the supposed violence 
of his own outraged feelings. 

The Lieutenant began to laugh. “ Well, if you 
fellows took the risk of driving through a camp 
of men who seldom get chicken,” he said, speak- 
ing with the soft cadence of a Virginian, “ you 
should take a troop of cavalry to defend your- 


With the Enemy 45 

selves. We Southerners can’t feed our army as 
well as the Yankees do.” 

“ But, ain’t we to get any money fer what’s 
gone ? ” enquired George, still bent on keeping 
to his part. Leastwise, can’t we get our stuff 
back ? ” 

As he stood there, with Carton, gazing in well- 
feigned anxiety at the officer, it was hard to 
realize that the two ill-dressed spies were not 
what they represented themselves to be — poor 
Tennessee farmers. 

“ There would be a riot in camp if we tried to 
take away any food that a man has obtained,” 
explained the Lieutenant, not ill-naturedly. ‘‘We 
don’t live on ducks and champagne at Spring 
Hill — and hungry stomachs know no morality.” 

“Ain’t we to get anything in return?” asked 
George, in a nasal tone that was simply ad- 
mirable. 

The Lieutenant hesitated. At last he replied : 
“You might file a complaint with General Yan 
Dorn. I tell you what to do — wait until to- 
morrow morning. The General is very busy 
just now — General Bragg is visiting here in con- 
ference with him — and it wouldn’t do any good to 


46 With Thomas in Tennessee 

bother about it this evening. But I’ll get you a 
tent for to-night, and some supper, such as it is 
— and to-morrow you can wait upon General 
Yan Dorn and see what he will pay you — 
although don’t pitch your hopes too high. We 
haven’t as much money as the Yankees.” 

George cast an enquiring look at Captain Car- 
ton. The Captain made a sign to signify ap- 
proval of the Confederate’s proposal, for he 
foresaw that a night in camp might enable him 
to glean all the information desired by Kosecrans 
and Thomas as to the strength of the enemy. 

“All right,” answered the boy, reading the 
signal aright, and pretty well understanding the 
importance of staying in the camp a little longer; 
“ef you’ll take us to the General to-morrow, 
we’ll bide here to-night — eh, brother ? ” 

“ Brother ” nodded pleasantly. 

In a short time, as the sun was sinking in the 
West, the young Lieutenant had quartered the 
two spies in a tent in the very centre of the 
camp, amid the canvas habitations occupied by 
a regiment of cavalry. Calling a sergeant of 
the regiment to the door of the tent, he said : 
“Miles, here are two farmers who must stay 


With the Enemy 47 

here until to-morrow morning; they have a 
claim for damages against the army. See that 
they get some supper to-night, will you ? ’’ 

The sergeant happened to be a chubby, red- 
faced Irishman, whose Confederate coat and 
waistcoat were rather spoiled in effect by the 
addition of a pair of old black cloth pantaloons 
and a dilapidated slouch hat. But he possessed 
a cheery smile which shone out blandly through 
his red whiskers, and proved rather reassuring to 
the strangers. 

“By Saint Patrick,” he said, “we soldiers 
don’t get food that comes from Delmonico’s, in 
Hew York, but such as there is here ye’re wel- 
come to — or my name ain’t Miles Limerick 
O’Keilly ! ” 

“And how on earth do you keep so plump. 
Miles ? ” asked the Lieutenant, laughing. “ You 
complain so of the food ? ” 

“Whist, an’ I’ll tell your honor,” explained 
Miles, drawing closer to the Lieutenant. “Ye 
see ’twas this way. Two weeks ago I fell sick, 
and reported meself to the orderly sergeant. So 
he whisks me off to the doctor. ‘ What’s ailin’ 
you. Miles ? ’ says he. ‘ I’ve a very heavy light- 


48 With Thomas in Tennessee 

ness in the head, doctor, dear,’ says I. ‘ Why, a 
hea'iiy lightness is a paradox,’ says he. ‘And 
what kind o’ disease is a paradox ? ’ says I, feelin’ 
kind o’ frightened like. ‘It’s a pretty bad 
disease,’ says he, laughing, ‘but I reckon if ye 
go to the hospital for a week, ye can be cured.’ 
So I goes to the hospital for a week, and they 
feeds me on food for the sick and here I be, 
cured of paradox, and plump as a partridge.” 

“ Well, Miles, now that the ‘ Paradox ’ is over, 
see that these two farmers get something to eat 
to-night, and to-morrow I’ll see what can be 
done for them about those chickens.” And the 
Lieutenant went off humming “Dixie.” 

An hour later the Irishman had introduced 
George and Carton to a party of eight or nine 
cavalrymen who were making their supper 
around an inviting camp-fire. This supper con- 
sisted of a decoction called coffee (which, from 
the taste, suggested that three-fourths of it 
must be chickory), some bacon, a quantity of 
hominy, and three chickens which were roasted 
on a spit. The two spies had a very keen 
suspicion that the chickens, if not the bacon, 
came from their own wagon, but they had no 


49 


With the Enemy 

intention of quarreling on this score. The 
supper which the soldiers freely shared with 
them, tasted like a feast, and George was only 
too glad to have the chance of joining in the 
general conversation and asking such questions 
as he dared about the fortifications at Spring 
Hill, the strength of the camp, et cetera. Carton 
smoked a pipe, which had been lent to him by 
O’Reilly, and drank in all the information which 
was easily forthcoming from the men. For 
there was no suspicion as to the loyalty of the 
supposed farmers for the Southern cause, and 
George, by some adroit talk, had given the im 
pression, very decidedly, that he and his 
“ brother ” were among the most staunch of 
Confederates. Thus it was that Carton heard 
details which, as he knew, would be of invaluable 
aid to Generals Rosecrans and Thomas, provided 
he could get safely back to the Union camp. 
There was the rub! Yet why should there be 
any trouble on that score? So far everything 
had gone successfully ; even that fox-eyed soldier 
who escaped from the Union lines had had his 
suspicions lulled to sleep. 

In the meantime George went on talking to 


50 With Thomas in Tennessee 

the cavalrymen, all of whom had quickly made 
friends with the boy, who, in spite of his slow 
Tennessee ‘Hwang,” seemed to be remarkably 
alert and nimble of intellect. 

“ You youngster ought to join the army,” said 
one of the soldiers, taking a lingering farewell 
sip of “ coffee ” from his tin cup, and looking at 
George through the firelight. “ You must find 
it dull on a farm.” 

“ Pooh I ” spoke up another man. “ Dull on a 
farm ! IPs as dull as ditch-water here. There’s 
not been anything exciting in camp for a week — 
except that hanging yesterday.” 

“ That hanging yesterday ? ” echoed George. 

“Yes; a man was caught here trying to pass 
himself off to General Yan Dorn as a newspaper 
correspondent, and he turned out to be a spy 
from Washington — sent down here, no doubt, by 
Abe Lincoln or Secretary of War Stanton. So 
they strapped him up — and may they do the 
same thing to all others.” 

George shivered, in spite of himself. It was 
very pleasant to play the spy, but when he heard 
about hangings, and realized, now that he was in 
the heart of the enemy, how the slightest false 


With the Enemy yi 

move might send Carton and himself to the 
gibbet, he could not help feeling nervous. But 
he plucked up his courage, as he said, sturdily 
enough : ‘‘ Hangin^, or no bangin’, I reckon 

I’ll stay on the farm, and help brother. Ye 
see he can’t talk, and he needs some one near 
him.” 

This sentiment seemed to meet with unanimous 
approval, to judge from the chorus of ‘‘ Good ” 
with which it was greeted. 

‘‘ Where’s your farm ? ” asked the last speaker. 

George, who had been expecting such a ques- 
tion answered quickly : ‘‘Jest a mile outside o’ 

B mentioning a small village not far 

from Spring Hill. 

“ Outside of B ! ” repeated the cavalry- 

man. “Then you must know old Pete Langston, 
who lives right near you — on the outskirts of the 
town ? ” 

“ I should say I did,” the boy said. “ Yes, in- 
deed3^” But he thought to himself, with sensa- 
tions that proved anything but agreeable : “ I 

haven’t the slightest idea who Pete Langston 
is, and I only hope I won’t be questioned about 
him.” 


52 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“How’s his daughter?” persisted the Con- 
federate. 

“I wish his daughter Avas in Kamchatka,” 
thought George, but he answered : “ She’s pretty 
well.” 

“ Pretty well, eh ? ” echoed the man, in appar- 
ent surprise. “ Why they always said her heart 
disease never could be cured ! ” 

George bit his lip, and it was well for his 
safety, and that of Carton, that his face was not 
in the full light of the camp-fire. But he recov- 
ered his composure in an instant. 

“Why they had a great doctor over from 
Nashville, and he claims as he cured her,” he 
explained. 

“ And where’s Job Langston now ?” 

This leading question was never answered, 
fortunately enough perhaps, for suddenly Carton 
gave a moan, clutched at his throat, and then, 
falling off the soap box on which he had been 
sitting, began to writhe upon the ground. His 
face twitched and his limbs moved convulsively. 
There was a stir among the men, whilst George, 
greatly alarmed, rushed to his companion’s 


rescue. 


With the Enemy 53 

‘^Whiskey!’’ cried one of the soldiers; “the 
poor devil has a fit ! ” 

And then he produced from a mysterious pocket 
of his uniform a black flask, part of whose con- 
tents he poured down the throat of the sufferer 
so quickly that the latter sputtered and choked 
in a manner painful to behold. But the medicine 
seemed, at last, to have a good effect, for his 
convulsions gradually ceased, his eyes, which 
had been rolling horribly, now regarded George 
quietly, and he tried to raise himself to a sitting 
posture. But the effort was too much for the 
farmer’s strength ; he sank back on the ground 
with an expression of extreme weakness. 

“I had better get him to our tent,” said 
George nervously. In his excitement he forgot 
to use his Tennessee accent, but the soldiers were 
so intent on watching Carton, that they never 
noticed the omission. Several of them helped to 
carry the Captain to the tent Avhich had been 
assigned him, about a hundred yards away, and 
there deposited him on the heavy blanket which 
was to form his bed for the night. “ He’ll be all 
right in a while,” said one of the good Samaritans 
reassuringly, after the others had left the tent. 


54 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ Thanks,” answered George, who by this time 
had recovered his presence of mind and his 
Tennessean drawl. I reckon he and I’ll turn in 
for the night now, and he’ll be better by sun-up.” 

‘‘ Does he want a surgeon ? ” asked the man 
kindly as he lighted a candle which he found on 
the tent table. 

At this Carton shook his head so violently that 
George said, ‘‘ No, thanks.” - 

“ Well, good-night,” said the soldier. The next 
moment he had left the tent. 

“ How do you feel now, old fellow ? ” asked 
George anxiously, bending down and placing one 
hand on the invalid’s brow. 

Carton indulged in a suppressed paroxysm of 
laughter by way of answer. George drew him- 
self up in surprise. “What on earth do you 
mean ? ” he asked in bewilderment. 

“ Come, Georgie, I see I deceived you as well 
as the rest of the fellows.” 

“ Then you had no fit — no epilepsy ?” 

“No more than you had,” chuckled Carton. 
“ I merely saw that you were likely to get your- 
self tangled up with that provoking Johnny who 
was asking you questions about the Langston 


With the Enemy 55 

family, and as I was under a Avell defined impres- 
sion that your knowledge of the aforesaid Langs- 
tons might be vague, to say the least, I deter- 
mined to divert the conversation by indulging in 
a little fit.” 

‘‘Well!” exclaimed George in tones wherein 
surprise and admiration were equally mingled. 
“ You fooled me completely.” 

“ Did I do it well ? ” asked Carton, with a tinge 
of very pardonable pride. “ I had a friend out 
in Indiana who used to have this sort of seiz- 
ures — poor boy — and I know the symptoms only 
too surely.” 

“ All I can say is that you’re an artist in fits,” 
replied the boy. “You frightened me half to 
death ; every second I expected to see you breathe 
your last. But I’m mighty thankful you came to 
my rescue, for if that Southerner had asked me 
two or three more questions about those wretched 
Langstons I should certainly have come to grief. 
As it was, I insisted on curing a lady who was 
suffering from incurable heart disease. A few 
more breaks like that and all would have been 
over with us. And now I see why you didn’t 
want the surgeon,” 


56 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“Yes,’’ whispered Carton, sitting up in his 
blanket bed and hugging his knees, “ I was afraid 
that a doctor might find out that I had only been 
shamming, and that was why I shook my head, 
and ” 

“ Hush ! ” interrupted George, in a low tone. 
“ I hear some one coming.” 

The boy spoke just in time ; the next instant 
found some one scratching at the flap of the 
tent. 

Carton sank down on the bed and closed his 
eyes. “Come in,” cried George. An elderly 
man, white of beard and kindly of aspect, wear- 
ing a black slouch hat and an undress Confeder- 
ate uniform, entered the tent. In his right hand 
he carried a vial of pink medicine. 

“ Is this the man who had an epileptic seiz- 
ure?” he enquired, looking at the apparently 
sleeping Carton. 

“Yes, but he is all right now,” answered 
George, quickly. “ It didn’t last long. Are you 
a surgeon ? ” 

“ Yes ; one of the cavalry told me about him.” 
He bent over Carton and gazed intently at his 
face. George held his breath. 


57 


With the Enemy 

“ He seems perfectly normal now,” said the 
surgeon, finishing his examination. “ When he 
wakes give him this draught — it’s a good bracer 
for the nerves. Good-night.” 

He handed the medicine to George, and left 
the tent without another word, as if his time were 
precious. 

“Another narrow escape,” muttered Carton, 
opening his eyes. “ I tell you, George, now that 
I’ve gotten all the information necessary about 
the strength of the camp, I say let us get away 
from here as soon as possible.” 

“ How soon ? ” asked the boy. 

“Well, early to-morrow morning. In the 
meantime we must stay quietly in the tent until 
then, for the less we mix with our Southern 
friends, and the less you have to answer embar- 
rassing questions about the worthy Pete Langston 
and his family, the better for the safety of our 
scalps.” 

Tired out with the travel of the day and the 
adventures of the afternoon and evening, George 
Knight soon sank down upon his blanket. He 
intended to stay awake, to keep the Captain com- 
pany, but nature was not to be trifled with, and 


58 With Thomas in Tennessee 

he was fast asleep almost as soon as his head sank 
back. Not so Carton. He was terribly weary, 
to be sure, but he was gradually working himself 
up into a nervous condition which was not im- 
proved by the loneliness of his surroundings. 
Outside he could hear the occasional tread of a 
sentry — the enemy’s sentry, worse luck — not one 
of his own army — and inside there was no sound 
but the gentle breathing of the boy. The 
candle on the little table gave a ghastly light 
and made the face of the sleeper look pale and 
uncanny. 

Carton grew more and more restless ; he 
moved, and turned from side to side, in his skimp 
bed, but all to no avail. A foreboding of evil 
took possession of his mind ; he seemed to find 
nothing but darkness in the future — perhaps a 
gibbet. Then there rose up before him all that 
he had read, as a schoolboy, of the execution of 
Major Andre, that dashing but ill-advised young 
British officer who had made an unsuccessful 
attempt to betray West Point into the hands of 
the English army. He could fancy Andre step- 
ping lightly upon the wagon which formed the 
platform of his gallows and saying: ‘‘I want 


With the Enemy 59 

you all to bear witness that I died like a brave 
man ! ” 

The Captain shuddered. But it was not for 
himself that he felt wrought up and nervous. 
He had come upon a perilous enterprise, and he 
was willing to meet courageously the results of 
that enterprise, be they what they might. It 
was for George Knight that he flinched in spirit. 
“ It would break my heart,” he said, ‘‘ to see any- 
thing happen to the boy. 

‘‘ Yet why should I get so gloomy ? ” he asked 
himself impatiently. ‘‘Everything has turned 
out all right so far ; no one suspects us ; to-mor- 
row morning we can drive off from camp for all 
the world like two farmers, after we have pre- 
tended to leave a claim with General Van Dorn 
for our stolen chickens.” 

After a time Carton grew calmer. At last he 
fell asleep. When he awoke he looked at his 
watch, which he drew from a pocket in his 
trousers, and found that it was nearly midnight. 
George was still in the Land of Nod. Once he 
muttered : “ Give me back those eggs ! ” The 
listener smiled. “ The boy is dreaming of this 
afternoon,” he thought. Then Carton relapsed 


6o With Thomas in Tennessee 

into an uneasy slumber, just as the ghostly can- 
dle, now burned down to the socket, flickered 
feverishly and went out. 

It may have been about half an hour later 
when Carton slowly returned to consciousness. 
Was any one moving in the tent ? He listened 
eagerly. No ; there was no one in the tent ex- 
cept George, who was sleeping heavily — but im- 
mediately outside he heard, however faintly, the 
sound of voices. It seemed as if two persons 
were conversing in low tones at the very en- 
trance of the tent. 

The Captain quietly raised himself to a sitting 
posture and strained his ears. But although the 
voices continued, he could not catch one word. 
Quickly changing his position he silently crawled 
to the flap of the tent. Then he could distin- 
guish, by close attention, the whispering of two 
men. He recognized one voice — a peculiarly 
sharp, rasping voice, as he recalled — as belonging 
to the fox-featured Confederate whom they had 
picked up in their wagon on their way to Spring 
Hill. 

“ Yes, Colonel,” he was saying, “ when I saw 
that boy this afternoon I knew I’d seen him in 


6i 


With the Enemy 

Rosecrans’s camp, only I couldn’t remember 
where. His face puzzled me. He told me that 
he’d been in camp there selling things the day I 
spoke of, and that sort of took me in for a while. 
But to-night it just flashed over me where I 
really had seen the kid. I was being marched, 
with three other prisoners, past the house used 
by General Thomas, and there, sitting on the 
porch, was that boy, dressed in a Federal uni- 
form. There can be no mistake; he’s got a 
handsome face not easily to be forgotten. He 
is no more a farmer than I am. He’s a spy, and 
so is that ‘ dumb ’ man. Dumb ! I’ll bet he can 
speak as well as I can ! ” 

‘‘ Lawrence,” whispered the other voice, “ you’ve 
done the Confederacy a good service by this dis- 
covery of yours. I see the whole business now. 
These two fellows are simply masquerading as 
farmers to gain information here for Rosecrans. 
It was a clever trick, but it won’t work, thanks 
to you.” 

“ Will you arrest them now ? ” enquired Law- 
rence, anxiously. 

‘‘ There’s no use in dragging them out now 
and arousing the whole camp,” answered the 


62 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Colonel. “But I’ll go back to headquarters and 
send a couple of sentries here to guard their tent 
until they wake up in the morning; then the 
two rascals will find it rather hard to get back 
to that imaginary farm of theirs. But it was a 
plucky thing to do.” 

“ It will be their last sleep on this side of the 
grave,” murmured Lawrence. Then there was 
dead silence, and the listener could hear the steps 
of the two men as they quietly stole away. 

“ Here’s a kettle of fish ! ” said Carton coolly. 
And going over to where George slept he shook 
him until the boy awoke. “What’s the mat- 
ter ? ” the latter asked, in wonderment. 

“ Hush ! ” whispered his companion. “ Don’t 
talk aloud or we are dead men. We have been 
found out. It is known that we are spies. In 
another minute there will be sentries here guard- 
ing our tent ! ” 

“Is the game up? ’’asked the lad. Strange 
to say, he felt perfectly calm. 


CHAPTEK III 

A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 

“ Are you ready for any emergency ? ” de- 
manded Captain Carton. He could not see 
George’s face, but he felt sure, from the tone of 
the latter’s voice, that the boy retained his pres- 
ence of mind. 

“ Of course I am,” whispered George. “ Have 
you any plan ? ” 

“ There’s only one thing to do now,” replied 
Carton, “ and that is to get away from this tent 
on the instant. If we can do that, the sentries 
who come here won’t know that they are guard- 
ing nobody, and we can gain time. Heaven 
knows what we’ll do after that — but anything’s 
worth trying for.” 

As he spoke, the Captain crawled to the en- 
trance of the tent and peered out. The night 
was pitch dark, fortunately enough ; there was 
not a star, however dim, in the firmament. He 
turned his head in the direction of George, who 
63 


64 With Thomas in Tennessee 

was now just behind him. ‘‘ Come,’’ he mut- 
tered, av/ay from this tent, quick ! ” 

He fairly wriggled out of the tent on his 
stomach, and was followed by George. As they 
emerged from the canvas they looked like two 
large snakes crawling from a hole in a prairie. 

Before them were hundreds of tents, and in 
the distance they could discern a solitary sentry, 
marching to and fro. AVhere were they to go 
now ? Everywhere were enemies ; there was 
not a friend within thirty miles of them ; the 
outlook was cheerless, not to say desperate. 

What shall we do now ? ” asked George, in a 
hoarse whisper. Had it not been for the black- 
ness of the night he might have expected that 
the sentry would have descended upon them the 
next instant. 

Carton’s idea as to his next step was vague, to 
say the least. His only thought was to leave the 
tent, over which two sentries were so soon to be 
posted. He crawled on for several minutes, 
with George behind him, wriggling in here and 
there between the other tents. At last he 
thought he could hear, in the distance, two sol- 
diers taking up their positions in front of the 


A Break for Liberty 65 

canvas which they had vacated so recently. 
“ They think they are guarding something,” he 
chuckled ; “ but when the stable door’s opened 
to-morrow morning the horses will be gone.” 
Yet the tone of triumph died on his lips. Where, 
he thought, could he and George flee in safety ? 
Were they not rather caught like rats in a 
trap? 

“ Look ! ” whispered the boy. He pointed in 
front of them to a long, low shed or shanty. 
‘‘ The stable,” he said. 

It was, in fact, the building used as a stable for 
miscellaneous teams and eamp vehicles, and in 
which the wagon and two horses brought by 
George and the Captain, had been placed for the 
night. 

“ That’s where our wagon is,” went on the 
boy, in an undertone. 

“ Stop ! ” whispered Carton. “ I’ve an in- 
spiration.” The two came to a halt in the slushy, 
oozy ground. George was conscious of the fact 
that his shoes and trousers were covered with 
mud. The Captain paused, and then went on : 

Let’s walk boldly into the stable, say that we 
want to leave camp now, to get back to the farm 


66 With Thomas in Tennessee 

early, and then we will drive off beyond the 
lines. We’re out of sight of those two sentries.” 

“ But how are we to get beyond the lines ? ” 
queried George. 

“ Very easily, if we work our cards right. We 
are very near the road by which we came in in 
the afternoon. If I get back our wagon and 
horses I’ll undertake to drive out without any 
one stopping us — and then good-bye forever to 
the camp of Spring Hill ! Just leave yourself to 
me.” 

“ Willingly,” whispered George, who knew 
that any attempt to escape was better than none. 
If they remained in camp until daybreak they 
might as well mount the gallows, to be hung as 
spies, or encounter a firing squad, without any 
further ado. 

Carton sprung to his feet, as did the boy like- 
wise, and the two walked quickly over to the 
stable. ‘‘ By Jove,” exclaimed the former, as 
they stood within several feet of the door, “ I had 
completely forgotten that I was dumb. George, 
you must go boldly in here, demand our team, 
and then drive out the road by the pickets. If 
they make any objection to our going, explain to 


A Break for Liberty 67 

them that we came in during the afternoon to 
sell produce to General Yan Dorn — that we are 
farmers anxious to get home soon, et cetera — and 
if that won’t work, then, by the Stars and Stripes, 
we might as well make up our minds to hang — 
or to be shot gracefully.” 

“ Any more instructions ? ” asked the boy. 
His spirits were fast rising, with the thought 
that he was once more to assume some responsi- 
bilities in this enterprise. Already, in imagina- 
tion, could he see Carton and himself safely hack 
in the camp at Murfreesboro. 

“ Ho more,” answered Carton. “ Only go in 
and win.” 

A few more steps brought them to the shanty 
which had been called, by courtesy, a stable. 
George knocked at the door. There was no re- 
sponse, so he threw it open, and walked in. 
Several weary soldiers, who were acting as hos- 
tlers, were sleeping on the ground, while one 
melancholy lantern threw a sickly light over the 
horses, tethered to stakes in the ground, and the 
rather mixed collection of commissary wagons. 

George, with an air of authority, shook one of 
the men roughly by the shoulder. ‘‘Here, you,” 


68 With Thomas in Tennessee 

he cried, resuming his Tennessean drawl, 
“brother and I must get back to the farm by 
sunrise.” 

The man opened his eyes, stretched himself, 
and looked at the two intruders in a surly fash- 
ion. “ What’s up ? ” he demanded, when he had 
fully come to his senses. 

George explained that he and his “ brother ” 
were the farmers who had come into camp to 
sell chickens, eggs, and bacon ; that they had left 
their wagon and two horses here, and that they 
must be home, and at work, by sunrise. 

The hostler, if such he might be called, slowly 
rose to his feet, and pointed to where the wagon 
was. The horses were tied near by. “Glad I 
ain’t a farmer,” he grumbled. “ A soldier’s life is 
bad enough — but a farmer’s — oh, law ! Go, get 
your wagon, and leave me to get a little sleep.” 

George and Carton, only too glad to act upon 
the hint, hurried to their wagon, hitched the 
horses to it, and were soon driving out of the 
stable. The hostler, who had seen or heard 
nothing to arouse his suspicions, was soon fast 
asleep again. The stable and its denizens were 
buried in slumber. 


A Break for Liberty 69 

Over a roadway which led to the picket line, 
and thence out on the highway, George drove 
quickly, without any attempt at concealment, 
passing several sentries on the way. The latter 
made no sign ; they had heard the team emerge 
from the stable, and they supposed, not un- 
naturally, that the commissary department was 
sending out for some supplies. 

“ Here comes the test,” whispered Carton, who 
was on the seat alongside of the boy, as they ap- 
proached the picket line. Keep up a stiff upper 
lip, and use your brains as if the whole world 
depended on you.” 

‘‘ I’ll do my best if only because your life de- 
pends on it,” answered George, sturdily and 
affectionately. His was an awesome responsi- 
bility, as he realized only too keenly ; if he was 
not adroit enough to get out of camp at once, 
their mission would be a failure, and death would 
end the incident. But he resolved to be cool and 
collected ; if he lost his head, figuratively speak- 
ing, there might be a rope around it, in grim 
reality, within twenty-four hours, and his com- 
panion would find himself in the same unpleasant 
predicament. 


70 


With Thomas in Tennessee 


It seemed an hour before they came to the 
picket line on the outskirts of the camp. Ac- 
tually it was scarcely more than a couple of 
minutes. George stopped the wagon. Through 
the darkness two pickets, carrying their muskets 
at right shoulder, hurried up to the fugitives. 

“ Who are you ? Give the countersign ! ” cried 
one of them, bringing his gun to “ carry arms.” 

“ What’s the good o’ counter-what-do-you-call- 
’ems ? ” demanded George. “ I’m leaving camp 
— not a try in’ to get in it.” And then he pro- 
ceeded to explain that he and his ‘‘ dumb 
brother ” were farmers who had come into camp 
in the afternoon and were anxious to get back to 
their farm by “ sun-up.” 

The two soldiers came up and peered through 
the gloom at the faces of the farmers. “ It may 
be all right,” said the man who had previously 
spoken, ‘‘ but I don’t know you, and people don’t 
usually leave camp at this early hour.” 

George now pretended to become angry. 
“ Well, the next time we come here to sell 
you uns food we’ll know it. First some o’ you 
rush on our wagon and steal half o’ what’s in it, 
and then, when we are a tryin’ to get home to 


71 


A Break for Liberty 

begin work by sun-up, you want to stop us. The 
Yankees treat us farmers a deal better than that, 
you jest bet.” 

“Oh, I know who these fellows are,” inter- 
rupted the second picket ; “ at least I heard as 
some of the cavalry made a raid on the wagon 
of two farmers yesterday afternoon and got 
away with a lot of chickens. These must be 
the ones.” 

The first man hesitated. It was a trying mo- 
ment. Upon his decision might depend the fate 
of two lives. George’s heart beat so fast that he 
wondered if its pulsations could be heard by the 
soldiers. 

“Look here,” said the picket, at last, “it’s 
mighty early in the morning, and if you jays 
wanted to leave at such an hour you should have 
had sense enough to get a pass or an order of 
some kind. I shan’t take the responsibility of 
letting you out ; you must wait till later.” 

Here was a wretched situation. Both the 
“ farmers ” now gave themselves up for lost. 
Before they could get away from camp daylight 
would come, and by that time the sentries guard- 
ing their tent would find that it was empty. 


72 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Then there would be a hue and cry ; a search 
would be made. 

Still George resolved not to lose his nerve. 
“ It’s a pretty mean way to treat us,” he con- 
tinued, “ and yer ought to see it’s so your own 
self.” 

“ Oh, let the poor devils go,” urged the second 
picket. “ What harm can it do ? ” 

“No, I don’t dare do that,” reiterated the 
other, “ but I tell you what I will do ” 

George’s heart lightened. What was the man 
going to propose ? 

“ I’ll walk over to headquarters,” he continued, 
“ and if I can get any one awake over there. I’ll 
ask permission to pass you both out.” 

Carton moved uneasily in his seat, while 
George’s spirits sank to their lowest depths. By 
“ headquarters ” the picket must mean the house 
occupied by General Yan Dorn’s staff, and it 
was probable that it was already known there 
that the private Lawrence had found the “ far- 
mers ” to be Union spies. 

“ How will that suit you ? ” asked the first 
picket, with the tone of a man who expects to be 
thanked. 


A Break for Liberty 73 

‘‘ Thank you,” said George, who felt in any- 
thing but a thanking humor. 

“ Harry,” went on the picket, stay here, 
while I go over to headquarters.” With that 
he disappeared in the darkness, leaving his 
companion guarding the strangers and their 
team. 

“ If it rested with me, boys,” said “ Harry,” 
quite apologetically, “ I would have let you both 
through.” 

George thought he saw one faint hope. 
“ Then why don’t you let us go now,” he asked, 
in a plausible, wheedling voice. 

“Ho, 3^ou don’t,” answered the Confederate, 
this time rather sharply. “ So long as my 
partner wouldn’t allow it I ain’t going to go 
back on him, and get myself into trouble in the 
bargain. Anyway, he may bring back a pass 
for you.” 

“More likely bring back a halter for us,” 
thought the boy. “ The game is up — the hounds 
have caught the hare.” 

But a new thought had dashed like lightning 
through Carton’s ingenious brain. It meant the 
one chance of escape for himself and George, 


74 With Thomas in Tennessee 

and he acted upon it instantly. Jumping from 
the wagon he suddenly threw himself on the 
picket and hit him a great blow on the forehead. 
The man fell as if he had been shot ; and as he 
sank backward the musket, which his nerveless 
fingers relinquished, clattered on the ground. 
In another second George had leaped from the 
wagon. 

“ Run for your life ! ” whispered Carton. In 
a twinkling the spies were running up the high- 
way, beyond the picket lines, and second by 
second were putting the team and the prostrate 
picket further and further behind them. “ Cap- 
tain,” cried George, breathlessly, ‘‘you’ve saved 
us ! ” 

“ Don’t know that I have,” panted Carton ; 
“ we’re not out of the woods yet.” But there 
was room for hope. 

On, on, they ran, till at length they heard 
loud cries in the camp. Then came the sharp 
crack of several muskets. “They have found 
out that we’ve escaped,” muttered Carton. “ In 
another minute they’ll be in hot pursuit ! ” 

George stopped short in the muddy road. 
“If they send any of the cavalry out for us 


A Break for Liberty 75 

we’re done for,” he gasped, unless we can get 
away from this road, and hide.” 

Captain Carton who had suddenly come to a 
halt, pointed through the darkness to a spot a 
hundred yards up the road. “ If I remember 
rightly,” he said, “ that’s a bridge that we went 
over yesterday afternoon. Let’s get under it.” 

The outcry in camp continued. Looking back 
the fugitives could see a number of lights. It 
was evident that a general alarm had been 
given. “ Come,” urged Carton. “ To the 
bridge ! ” 

On they ran until they reached what proved, 
most fortunately, to be the bridge which the 
Captain had remembered. Here they made a 
halt. ‘‘ Crawl under here, somewhere or some- 
how,” commanded the Captain. It’s our only 
chance.” 

Hever afterwards could the boy exactly ex- 
plain how he did crawl under that bridge — 
which was nothing more than a wooden plank- 
ing across a little stream — but he contrived to 
do it in some shape, and was closely followed by 
the Captain. Hardly had they reached this 
point of vantage before they could hear the 


76 With Thomas in Tennessee 

clink of horses’ feet upon the road. Nearer and 
nearer came the sound. 

“Just in time!” whispered Carton. He was 
crouching, next to George, on a slushy bank 
about six feet below the timbers of the bridge. 
By them ran, or rather meandered, a sluggish 
creek. Carton, who was feverish from excite- 
ment, dipped his hat into the water, and threw 
the contents over his head. Then he replaced 
his hat. “That’s a relief,” he said. He and 
George had had the presence of mind to take 
their hats from the tent. 

On came the sound of horsemen. 

“ I thought they would get the cavalry after 
us,” said Carton. “We would have been caught 
if we’d kept on the road, or even scurried olf to 
the side of it.” 

George pressed one of his companion’s hands. 
“ If it hadn’t been for your knocking down the 
picket,” he said, “ we would have been in camp 
now. I owe my life to you.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” replied the Indianian. “ I’m only 
sorry that I had to punish such a decent fellow 
as ‘ Harry.’ If it had rested with him he would 
have let us off.” 


77 


A Break for Liberty 

The fact was, as the fugitives learned in after 
years, that just as “ Harry ” came to his senses, 
little the worse for his encounter with Carton, 
he found the other picket running back to him, 
accompanied by several soldiers. In his enquiries 
at headquarters this first picket had discovered 
that the alleged farmers were spies, and he tore 
back again with the intention of arresting them. 
But the birds had flown. Then came an alarm, 
and the pursuit of cavalry. 

Over the bridge rushed a dozen Confederate 
horsemen, shaking particles of mud upon the 
heads of the two hiding beneath. They were 
urging on their animals with hoarse cries, 
and the fugitives plainly heard one man say: 
“ Those Yankees can’t be far away. We must 
catch up to them in a minute ! ” 

“ What if the men should hunt for us under 
here ? ” George ventured to ask, after the caval- 
cade had passed. 

“ If they do, they’ll simply find us,” laughed 
Carton. “ But let us hope it will never occur to 
them to look here.” 

Half an hour passed away. George and Car- 
ton were now sitting on the bank, still under 


78 With Thomas in Tennessee 

the bridge. “ I’m beginning to feel stiff,” said 
George. 

“ You’ll feel stitfer before we get through with 
this,” muttered his companion. He spoke truly, 
for nearly an hour elapsed before they could 
hear the cavalry returning. By that time 
George felt as if none of his joints would ever 
again be limber. 

Back swept the horsemen, over the bridge. It 
seemed as if they were grumbling among them- 
selves. In a few moments they clattered into 
camp, to announce that the pursuit had, thus far, 
proved a failure. 

“ How comes the rub,” said Carton, when they 
were out of hearing. “ Shall we stay here, or 
get away, and make towards Murfreesboro ? If 
we stay here we may be routed out ; if we go 
back to the highroad we may be caught by an- 
other hunting party.” 

“ If we do stay here,” answered George, “ day- 
light will overtake us in a while, and then we 
may have to pass another twenty-four hours 
under this bridge, which wouldn’t be pleasant, to 
say the least. We could never get away from 
here in broad daylight, as we are so near the 


A Break for Liberty 79 

camp. Why not steal olf now, when the road 
is clear, and before another pursuing party is or- 
ganized ? ” 

“ I guess you’re right,” assented Carton. 
“ Here we go ! ” He scrambled from under the 
bridge, followed by George. Another minute 
found them on the highroad. 

“ And now for Murfreesboro ! ” said Carton, 
adding, under his breath, “ if we ever get there.” 

“ What’s your plan of action ? ” asked George, 
as they walked along the road. 

“ Providence knows,” answered the Captain, 
vaguely but cheerfully. “We must trust to 
chance. We have been trusting to chance for 
the past two or three hours, and have come out 
safely thus far, so let us go on in the same way, 
and see what turns up. Do you see those three 
stars struggling through the black sky ? The 
day will be clear.” 

So they trudged on towards Murfreesboro, 
which seemed such a long way off, without meet- 
ing a soul in the darkness. At length the day 
began to dawn ; a little later there was a. rosy 
hue in the east ; at last came the sunrise. There 
was a chill in the air, but the day promised to be 


8o With Thomas in Tennessee 

warm. Carton halted in the road, and looked 
steadfastly at George. They were both covered 
with mud, due to their sojourn under the bridge, 
and appeared in anything but a prepossessing 
garb. 

“ It’s probable,” said the Captain, “ that the 
daylight will bring another party of cavalrymen 
scurrying over this road to hunt us. And as we 
can’t beat them on foot, therefore ” 

“ Therefore,” continued the boy, “ the sooner 
we get off the road to some safe hiding-place the 
better. Later, after the cavalry have gone on, 
we can keep on our journey.” 

“ Spoken like an oracle,” laughed Carton. 
“ But where are we to hide ? ” 

Just then George gave a little cry of surprise. 
“ There’s a house,” he said. He pointed to a 
two-story brick double house which was about 
two hundred yards ahead of them, to the right, 
standing some fifty feet back from the roadway. 
There was a portico in front of the building, 
which was fianked by an old-fashioned barn and 
numerous outhouses. “ Shall we try that ? ” he 
asked. 

Carton hesitated. But as he stood irresolute 


A Break for Liberty 8i 

in the road he suddenly looked back towards 
Spring Hill. Then he sank upon his knees, and 
bent his head to the ground. “ I was not mis- 
taken,” he said hurriedly. ‘‘ I hear the sound of 
horses’ hoofs. More cavalry are coming after us. 
Let’s make for the house, come what may ! ” 
Without another word he dashed up the road, 
with George at his heels, until he reached the 
two white wooden pillars which marked the en- 
trance to the farm. Unfastening the gate, the 
two ran up the wide garden path. Clink, clink, 
came the sound far away, of Confederate horse- 
men. 

“ There’s no use trying to get into the house,” 
exclaimed George. “ No one’s up ; and even if 
we got in we might only be betrayed ! ” 

“ To the stable ! ” cried Carton. He ran to the 
left of the mansion until he reached the barn, 
with the boy close behind him. He tried the 
door, but it was tightly shut. 

“ Here, get in the window,” whispered George. 
To the right of the door was an open window, 
just big enough to admit a not overly-large 
man. Through it the lad tumbled, head-over- 
heels, and then dragged the Captain in after him. 


82 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ Out of the frying pan into the fire,” laughed 
the latter. First a bridge, then a barn — and 
Fate knows when we will get out of this.” 

‘‘Anything’s better than a prison in Yan 
Dorn’s camp,” said George. He looked critically 
around him. On one side of the stable were 
stalls for five horses, three of which were occu- 
pied ; on the other side four sleepy cows were 
tethered ; in the rear of the building was a room 
containing wagons and farm implements. Up- 
stairs there was evidently a large hay loft, to 
which a ladder led from the ground floor. 

“ Listen ! ” exclaimed Carton. The sound of the 
horses was nearer than ever now. He cautiously 
peered out of the window through which they 
had entered. “There are eight cavalrymen at 
the gate of the farm,” he whispered. “ They are 
having a discussion among themselves.” A min- 
ute later he hastily drew his head back into the 
barn. “They are coming up to the house,” he 
explained. 

He spoke truly. The two Federals could hear 
the men galloping up the path. They reached 
the house and reined up. One of them appar- 
ently leaped from his horse, and then began to 


A Break for Liberty 83 

pound fiercely at the front door. “ Here, Farmer 
What’s-your-name ! ” he called in loud, ringing 
tones. “What are you sleeping in bed so late 
for ? Don’t you know farmers should be up be- 
fore sunrise ? Get up — the army of the Confed- 
eracy has business with you.” 

There was a pause. At last shutters and a 
window, evidently in the second story, were 
opened, and the occupants of the barn heard the 
following colloquy : 

Cavalryman (impatiently): “What’s the mat- 
ter with you ? Do you expect to run a farm 
keeping these late hours ? ” 

Farmer (in a crusty voice) : “You keep to your 
trade and I’ll look after mine. If I sleep late in 
the winter I’ll bet I get up two hours earlier than 
you do in summer — and work harder all the year 
round.” 

Laughter from the other cavalrymen. 

Cavalryman : “ We won’t discuss that. We 
have come here to tell you that two Federal 
spies have escaped from the camp at Spring Hill. 
They’re on this road somewhere, trying to sneak 
back to Murfreesboro. One is a grown man, 
medium height, with a smooth face ; the other’s a 


84 With Thomas in Tennessee 

boy of sixteen or thereabouts, tall for his age. 
They pretend to be farmers. ISTow if by any 
chance they show up in this neighborhood they 
must be held, and General Yan Dorn notified at 
once. And I want you to keep your eyes open 
and warn all your neighbors this morning — yes, 
and within an hour, too.” 

Farmer (crossly) : ‘‘ Why don’t you do it your- 
selves ? There are eight of you.” 

Cavalryman : “ Because we must keep to the 
road. Now do what I tell you, or it’ll be the 
worse for you.” 

Farmer : “ All right. I had a lot o’ work on 
hand for this morning, but I’m just as good a 
friend o’ the South as you are, although I ain’t paid 
for being one like you, and so I’ll ride out and 
warn the folks around here.” 

“ All right, see that you do,” said the cavalry- 
man, who was plainly the leader of the party. 
“ Come, boys, let’s get out on the highway 
again ! ” 

There was a bustle among the men which was 
suddenly arrested by the leader’s quick exclama- 
tion of surprise. “ By Jinks ! ” he cried. “ There 
are a pair of fresh footprints ! ” There was a 


A Break for Liberty 85 

pause ; then he proceeded, in much excitement : 
“ Look ! Those prints come up the road and go 
to that barn yonder ! ’’ 

“How d’ye know the marks are fresh?” en- 
quired one of his companions, rather doubt- 
ingly. 

“ I’ll tell you why I know. Look at the foot- 
prints in the mud near the right forefoot of your 
horse. Don’t you see that the water from the 
road is trickling into it in a thin stream. Had 
that print been made yesterday the water would 
have run into it long ago. Besides, any one 
could tell, from their appearance, that these 
prints have just been made.” 

It may be imagined what eager but startled 
listeners George and Carton were to this conver- 
sation. 

“ Zounds ! ” whispered the Captain. “ Are 
those farmers’ boots of ours, trailing through 
the mud, going to be our ruin ? ” 

“We can’t stay here,” urged George. 

“It’s no use in running out,” answered Carton. 
“They would only shoot us down like rabbits. 
Let’s get up into the hayloft. AYe’ve each a 
pistol concealed about us, and if we must meet 


86 With Thomas in Tennessee 

death let it come now. We’ll sell our lives 
dearly ! ” 

As he spoke he sprang up the ladder which 
led to the hayloft, and George came scrambling 
after him. They found themselves in a large 
room running the whole length of the building, 
directly under the roof, and with a window at 
each end, front and back. The place was half 
filled with hay and contained, in addition, several 
old, rusty ploughs and some broken furniture. 

Already could they hear some one pounding at 
the stable door. ‘‘Come out of that barn!” 
cried the voice of the leader, “ whoever you 
are.” 

Carton stole over to the window in the front 
of the loft and looked cautiously out. Immedi- 
ately below was the dismounted leader, beating 
at the door with his sabre, while around him, 
likewise dismounted, were his seven men, carry- 
ing carbines. The horses had been tied to a long 
wooden hitching-rod near the house. 

The Captain moved away from the window. 
“ It looks pretty black for us,” he said. “ Eight 
armed men against two. But we’re not dead 
yet. Let us stand at the head of this ladder — 


A Break for Liberty 87 

which is the only means they have of getting up 
into this loft — and I can blaze away at every man 
who attempts to climb up ! ’’ 

“ Good ! ” cried the boy. “ Only one man can 
get up at a time. We will have the advantage.” 

They brought from under their coarse shirts 
their respective revolvers. Carton produced 
from a pocket in his trousers a quantity of car- 
tridges which he handed to George. “You had 
better keep these to reload the pistols, if neces- 
sary, and that will give me time to fire, and fire 
quickly.” 

Bang ! bang ! went the leader, still pounding 
at the door with his sabre. “Come out of 
that ! ” he called again. “ I’m sure we have 
caught our two spies,” he added to his men. 

By this time the farmer must have appeared 
on the scene, for the fugitives heard him say, 
contemptuously: “Like as not two drunken 
niggers have crawled in there and gone to sleep.” 

“ Break down this door ! ” thundered the 
leader. In a moment the butts of several car- 
bines were pounding on the door, which soon 
gave way with a crash. 

“Now for it! ” whispered Carton. 


88 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Into the barn rushed the men, headed by their 
leader. The two Northerners above could hear 
them as they searched through the stalls, and 
then hurried back to explore the carriage room. 
Carton stood at the opening of the loft looking 
down upon the ladder. In his right hand he 
held his loaded revolver. The other revolver, 
and the ammunition, were in the possession of 
George, who stood immediately behind him. 
Both of them wore determined expressions on 
their faces; both of them felt very calm, as 
brave persons do when danger actually arrives. 

Soon the cavalrymen came running back from 
the carriage room. “ They must be hiding up- 
stairs,” cried the leader. As he spoke he hurried 
over to the ladder and began to climb it. 

Crack 1 A bullet from Carton’s revolver buried 
itself in the leader’s left shoulder, and he, more 
startled than dangerously hurt, tumbled from the 
ladder into the arms of one of his command. 

“ Come on,” shouted Carton, who now began 
to taste the excitement of battle ; ‘‘ come on, and 
I’ll serve you all the same way 1 ” To this war- 
like sentiment George added by giving a lusty 
cheer. 


A Break for Liberty 89 

The leader had evidently recovered from his 
surprise, for they heard him say : “ Oh, I’m all 

right; it’s only a flesh wound. I’ll try them 
again.” 

“ Don’t be so foolhardy,” interposed the voice 
of another cavalryman. “ The second time you 
go up the ladder you’ll be shot for good and all. 
Only one can get up that ladder at a time, and 
as each one goes up he’ll be quickly picked off 
from above.” 

This argument, being full of common sense, 
evidently appealed to the leader. “Have you 
got any better plan ? ” he asked. 

“Yes,” was the reply. “Come away from 
that ladder, and I’ll tell you what it is.” 

The men moved away towards the door of the 
barn. George and the Captain could hear them 
talking in whispers. “ What on earth can they 
be concocting now ? ” asked the former. 

“ Nothing pleasant for us,” replied Carton 
grimly. “ I’m sorry they didn’t try coming up 
the ladder. We were nicely prepared for 
them.” 

“ They showed their sense in not coming up,” 
observed the boy. 


go With Thomas in Tennessee 

Suddenly they heard the voice of the farmer 
raised in angry protest. 

“ You’ll do nothing of the sort ! ” he shouted. 
“ I’ll report you to your General ! It’s an out- 
rage ! ” 

“ Eeport away, old boy,” rejoined the leader, 
Avhose wound did not, apparently, cause him 
overmuch inconvenience. “You’ll get no sym- 
pathy. All is fair in war — particularly where 
spies are concerned.” 

“ It’s a shame ! ” fairly screamed the farmer. 
“ You’ll ruin me. I’ve slaved all my life to keep 
body and soul together on this here farm, and 
now, just as I’m a-beginnin’ to see daylight, you 
devils come here to ” 

“Get out!” savagely interrupted the leader. 
“ If you say another word I’ll put you under 
arrest, and take you off to Spring Hill.” 

There was a scuffling which indicated that the 
farmer was being pushed out of the stable. 
Then the cavalrymen left the building. All was 
silence down-stairs. 

“ What deviltry do you think these fellows are 
plotting against us ? ” asked Carton, looking at 
his companion and toying with his pistol. 


A Break for Liberty 91 

“ Something good for them, and bad for us,” 
returned George. “ They are no fools ! ” 

Just then some one reentered the barn. It was 
the farmer, for his voice could be heard wailing : 
“ It’s a sin — a sin — a burning shame ! ” Then he 
went from stall to stall and released the horses, 
which he led out of the building. In several 
minutes he was back, and it was clear to those 
above that he had released the cows. Soon these 
animals were walking out of the barn in their 
slow awkward way. 

“ What on earth can they be going to do ? ” 
queried George. He felt exactly as if he were 
looking on at some play whose plot he could not 
understand. How was the drama to end ? Why 
had the cows and horses been removed ? 

Carton gave a sharp cry, almost as of one in 
pain. “ I see the whole thing ! ” he said. “ They 
are going to burn the barn ! They will roast us 
out, just as if we were rats, and then, when we are 
forced to quit here, they’ll capture us ! ” 

George gasped. The idea was not agreeable, 
to say the least. The alternative of burning to 
death or capture, was not alluring. He walked 
to the front window of the loft, and gazed out. 


92 With Thomas in Tennessee 

The cavalry horses Avere still tethered in front of 
the farmer’s house, and they were now joined by 
the horses from the stable. The farmer Avas 
driving the cows into a pasture on one side of 
the road leading from the house to the highAvay. 
The men were outside, near the barn door, talk- 
ing to their Avounded leader. 

“ IVe got an idea ! ” said George, hurrying 
back to Carton. 

“ Out Avith it — quick, then. No time to lose ! ” 

‘‘ The caA'alr}^ are all near the door. They’ll 
expect us to run out of that door when the fire 
gets started here. Instead of doing that, Avhy 
not drop from the back Avindow of this loft — it 
isn’t so high that it Avill hurt us, and make a bee- 
line for the cavalry horses that are hitched near 
the house — each mount one — and be off, out of 
the place, and along the road toAvards Murfrees- 
boro ? ” 

Carton put his revolver back under his shirt. 

It’s a desperate chance,” he said, “ but it’s our 
only one. We may get shot — but on the other 
hand Ave may escape. You are not afraid to try 
it, Georgie ? ” 

George, Avho had concealed under his shirt 


93 


A Break for Liberty 

his own pistol and the cartridges, merely an- 
swered : “ Feel my heart, Captain. It beats as 
regularly as if I were in headquarters with Gen- 
eral Thomas.” 

“ I don’t need to feel it,” said Carton. 
“ Heaven knows I have never doubted your 
bravery. I only thought it fair to warn you of 
the risks we are taking.” 

“ I am ready to take them,” replied the boy. 

“ Then here we go, lad. And may Providence 
give us wings ! ” 


CHAPTEE lY 


ON TOWARDS MURFREESBORO 

As Carton and George spoke they heard a man 
enter the stable below. They paused for a mo- 
ment, while they listened intently. They could 
hear him go into a stall ; then there came a 
rustling in the straw, the striking of a match, 
and, soon afterwards, an omnious, crackling 
sound. 

“Come,’’ commanded the Captain, touching 
the boy on the arm. “ The barn’s on fire ! ” 

They hurried to the back window of the loft. 
Carton opened the casement, threw out his legs 
and balanced himself for the space of a second 
on the sill. As he looked down he gave an ex- 
clamation of pleasure. No one was stationed at 
the back of the building ; it was plain that the 
spies were expected to make a dash from the 
front door. 

“ Can you squeeze alongside of me ? ” he asked, 
anxiously. “ Let us drop together, if we can.” 

94 



George Could not Help Looking Back and Shaking His Fist 



On Towards Murfreesboro 


95 

Fortunately the sill was wide, so that George 
was able to sit upon it. 

“ JSTow drop ! ’’ whispered Carton. 

On that signal both leaped to the ground, un- 
hurt, and made a spurt for the horses. Already 
could they hear the crackling of straw and tim- 
bers in the doomed stable. 

After they emerged from the back of the burn- 
ing building and passed on to their goal, there 
arose a 3^ell of angry surprise and dismay from 
the cavalr3nnen. 

“ Eun for your life ! ” urged Carton. Kun 
they did ; each unhitched a soldier’s horse, and, 
giving the startled beasts the rein, turned them 
in the direction of the highroad. Whiz, whiz, 
went the bullets from the men’s carbines, as the 
spies dashed madly off. But none of them hit 
either horses or riders. George could not help 
looking back, as he sped on, and shaking his fist 
in the faces of his enemies. His answer was a 
yell of execration. He saw the cavalrymen — 
all, at least, save the wounded leader, make a 
wild rush for what remained of their horse con- 
tingent, and he saw, too, six men mount into the 
saddle. 


96 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ They’re after us ! ” said the boy, as they 
raced into the highroad, and turned the heads of 
their animals in the direction of Murfreesboro. 

“ Let ’em come,” cried Carton, who had sud- 
denly become almost jubilant. “ I feel ready for 
anything now.” 

“ My horse looks like a gritty fellow,” said 
George, as they galloped on. He was mounted 
on a long-legged bay horse which, if not exactly 
handsome or blooded, gave unmistakable signs 
of possessing endurance. 

‘‘ I took a good one blindly,” returned the 
Captain. He had accidentally chosen the best 
horse of all — a fleet Kentucky mare, black as 
night, full of spirit, and fleet of foot. 

“ How long can we keep up this pace ? ” asked 
the boy. 

“ Why just as long — perhaps longer than the 
other fellows can. Our chance is as good as 
theirs is. As for the rest, we must trust to luck.” 

They galloped past an old negro who was 
driving a pair of oxen attached to a cumbersome 
cart. The man looked at them half frightened, 
as if they were flying spirits. 

On, too, came the six cavalrymen, who seemed 


On Towards Murfreesboro 97 

to be gaining, however slightly, upon the two in 
front. George started to urge on his horse to 
even greater speed. 

“ What are you doing that for ? ” asked 
Carton. 

“ Those fellows are gaining on us a little,’^ he 
answered. Just at that moment there was a 
report behind them and a bullet grazed George’s 
ear. 

“ Come, girl,” cried Carton, speaking to his 
mare ; “ let’s put a little more distance between 
those gentlemen and ourselves.” 

He soon increased the speed of the animal, and 
he and George flew onward towards the Union 
camp, still so many miles away. Fields of stub- 
ble, woods, and an occasional farmhouse, passed 
before them like a panorama of quickly moving 
objects. 

After they had gone another half a mile in this 
rapid fashion, and the two horses showed signs 
of tiring, Carton looked behind him. By 
Jove,” he said, we are outdistancing the enemy. 
They are falling behind.” It was true. The 
pursuers were now much more in the rear than 
they had been. 


98 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Go on for a little while, old girl,’’ said the 
Captain, ‘‘and then we’ll let you walk.” He 
patted the horse’s head, and the noble animal, 
seeming to understand what was expected of her, 
quickened her pace. Her endurance acted as a 
spur upon George’s horse, which kept on spirit- 
edly. In another ten minutes the two fugitives 
reined in their perspiring steeds and once more 
looked behind them. As they did so they uttered 
exclamations of delight. Back in the highroad, 
as they could see, the six horsemen had come to 
a standstill. 

“ Good ! ” cried Carton. “We have gotten 
the better of them ! ” 

He and George now brought their horses into 
a walk and gave them a much needed rest. 
“ This is what I call blind luck,” laughed the 
Captain. “We accidentally chose the two best 
horses of the party.” 

“ If you get me out of this scrape safely,” said 
George, stroking the mane of his own animal, 
“I’ll see to it that you have free oats all the 
days of your life.” The long-legged bay gave a 
whinny, as if to return thanks for such a gener- 
ous sentiment. 


On Towards Murfreesboro 99 

It was evident that the pursuit had been 
abandoned. “ I think we’re out of the woods at 
last,” said Carton. “We should get into camp 
late this afternoon if all goes well. My, but I’m 
hungry. I could eat a whole sheep.” 

They ambled on for half an hour with no 
further hint of the cavalrymen. Suddenly 
George began to feel very sick and dizzy ; he 
reeled in his saddle, and seemed in danger of 
falling. 

“What’s the matter?” asked his companion 
anxiously. 

“ Nothing,” answered the boy. But even 
as he spoke the reins fell from his grasp; he 
lurched like a drunken man. Carton stopped 
both horses, and stretching out one arm seized 
hold of George. “ George,” he cried ; “ you are 
ill ! ” 

“Not a bit,” answered the lad bravely. But 
his looks belied him. He was deathly pale and 
trembling like a leaf. His teeth began to 
chatter ; he most assuredly had a chill. 

Carton relinquished his hold of the boy, leaped 
from his horse, and then dragged the invalid 
from his own animal and helped him to the side 

LofC. 


loo With Thomas in Tennessee 

of the road. George sat down on a muddy 
bank, where he shook as if he had the palsy. 

‘‘ Look out for the horses,” chattered George, 
lie spoke just in time. In his anxiety over the 
lad the Captain had left the animals standing in 
the road, and they were now turning around with 
their heads towards Spring Hill. In another 
minute they would have been galloping, riderless, 
back to the Confederate camp. Carton hastily 
ran to the middle of the road, grasped them by 
the bridles and walked between them over to- 
wards George. The latter was now lying flat 
upon his back as convulsive tremors seemed to 
be running up and down his whole body. 

Carton became frightened, not for his own 
safety or that of George, although he knew that 
pursuit of them might not yet be discontinued — 
but because he feared the boy had some sort of a 
fit. Perhaps he is dying,” he thought, “ and I 
can do nothing for him ! ” 

“ Calculate he’s sick ? ” came a nasal voice, as 
if from the clouds. Carton jumped as if he had 
been shot, and saw, coming towards him from 
the direction of Murfreesboro, a lean, lanky man 
mounted on a decrepit mule. Indeed he was 


On Towards Murfreesboro loi 

almost alongside of the fugitives when he spoke. 
His shabby dress indicated that he was one of 
the poorer class of white farmers or planters; 
his white beard, unkempt but profuse, hung 
down almost to the level of his saddle ; his eyes 
were shrewd yet honest; and his general ap- 
pearance proved conclusively that he was a man 
of sixty-five or seventy who had found most of 
those years to be a pretty hard struggle. 

The Captain hailed the stranger as if he had 
been a succoring angel. Come here, friend, 
do,” he entreated. “This poor boy has got 
something dreadful the matter with him ! ” 

The stranger dismounted, left his mule in the 
middle of the road, where it remained as 
patiently as if it were securely tied, and walked 
slowly over to the sick boy. The latter was just 
in the midst of another spasm. 

The man eyed him critically and in a kindly, 
fatherly way, but not with the slightest expres- 
sion of alarm. 

“ Can he be dying ? ” whispered the distraught 
Captain, still holding the horses. 

“ Dying ? ” echoed the man. His voice had 
nothing of the Southern inflection in it ; rather 


102 With Thomas in Tennessee 

did it suggest the hard, dry tone to be heard, in 
old times, among a certain class of New England 
farmers. “ Dying ? Don’t you guess what’s the 
matter with him ? ” 

“ Fits ? ” enquired Carton, tremulously. 

“ Only ague ! ” said the other. Why I guess 
you can’t belong around here if you don’t know 
ague when you see it. We’ve lots of it in these 
parts — and it never kills.” 

This answer lifted a load of anxiety from 
the Captain’s mind, but it also aroused him to 
the stern necessity of inventing some plausible 
story to account for his presence on the road. 
For the time being it seemed as if all his creative 
genius had left him. At last he said: “We 
come from Franklin County and we’re going to 
visit friends in Nashville.” 

“Franklin County, Tennessee?” asked he of 
the white beard. 

“ Exactly.” 

“ Well, you can’t have lived in the State long,” 
was the reply. “ You talk like a Northerner.” 

“I’ll tell you my family history some other 
time,” cried Carton impatiently. “ Only help 
me with this boy now.” 


On Towards Murfreesboro 


103 

“Didn’t mean no offense, brother,” said the 
stranger. “ As for this boy he’s got a fit of 
ague, which will soon pass off. A night’s rest 
will fix him up all right.” 

“ Let’s be getting on,” suddenly urged George, 
sitting up on the bank. The chill had left him 
as quickly as it had appeared, although he looked 
very pale, and there was a feverish glitter in his 
eyes. 

“ You’ll be crazy, lad, if you try to ride on 
now,” explained the man, with a touch of genuine 
sympathy in his nasal voice. “ The ague down 
here always leaves a fellow very weak for a few 
hours.” 

“ Oh, I’m perfectly well again,” chirped 
George. He immediately disproved his state- 
ment by trying to stand up and then falling 
back upon the bank. 

“ What did I tell you ? ” said the old farmer. 

“ What can I do with him ? ” asked Carton. 
He realized that the sooner he could get the boy 
away from the road the better would it be for 
the safety of them both. At any minute another 
pursuing party might be sent after them from 
Spring Hill. But where to go ? 


104 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“I ain’t got a castle to live in,” said the 
stranger, but, sich as it is, you’re welcome to it 
to spend to-day and the night in. I’ll give the 
boy some of that stuff they call quinine, and by 
to-morrow morning he’ll be fine as a fiddle.” 

Carton did not like the idea of lingering in the 
enemy’s region, particularly when the whole 
countryside might be on the lookout for George 
and himself, but he had no alternative. George 
could not travel on horseback that day. So he 
promptly accepted the Tennessean’s well-meant 
proffer of hospitality. “ But heaven knows,” he 
thought, “ what new hornets’ nest we may be get- 
ting into now.” 

After some little discussion the man, who an- 
nounced that his name was Hiram Hubbard and 
that his farm was about a mile back from the 
highroad, put himself and George on his ancient 
mule, and started for home. Carton came be- 
hind, mounted on his mare and leading the bay 
horse. They kept along the road, towards Mur- 
freesboro, for about half a mile, and then turned 
into a lane flanked by fields upon which some of 
the last fall of snow still remained and which 
were dotted, here and there, with trees of red 


On Towards Murfreesboro 105 

cedar. After proceeding slowly up this lane for 
the allotted mile the party rode funereally into a 
farm of perhaps twenty acres or more. In the 
middle of the plot stood a long one-story brick 
house, with a small white portico in front. Back 
of the building was a small barn, and in the 
vicinity were a corn crib, a not overly -sweet pig- 
pen, and a sheepfold. 

“ Here’s my farm,” explained Hiram Hubbard, 
almost apologetically, “and it’s a hard thing to 
make two ends meet on it, I can tell you.” 

“ Still, you must be fond of it,” said Carton, in 
an endeavor to be polite to his new host. “I 
suppose you were born on the place ? ” 

“Born on the place!” echoed the farmer. 
“Jerusha, no! My family all come from Con- 
necticut, and they have lived in Connecticut since 
it was founded. But I emigrated to Tennessee 
about thirty years ago, bought this ground — and 
here I’ve lived since. I might have done worse; 
I might have done better. But I’m still a 
Yankee ! ” 

Carton’s spirits rose within him. He had not 
run his head into the lion’s mouth, after all. 
Here was a man who proclaimed that he was 


lo6 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ still a Yankee ! ” Might that not mean that the 
‘‘Yankee” would have sympathy with the two 
spies in their attempt, this far frustrated, to get 
back to the Union camp ? But before he could 
pursue the subject further in his own mind they 
had reached the house. 

Hubbard, who had been holding George in 
front of him, jumped from the mule and then 
helped the boy to the ground. The latter looked 
weak and pale ; it was evident that he needed 
rest after the attack of ague. Carton next dis- 
mounted from the mare. 

“ If you’ll be kind enough to open the front 
door, and walk in the sett in ’-room,” said the host, 
“ I’ll take the mule and your two horses ’round 
to the barn.” As he spoke he gave the mule a 
gentle push, and it walked slowl}?^ over to the 
barn, whilst Hubbard brought up the rear, lead- 
ing the two horses. 

The Captain, who now had one hand around 
George’s waist, made use of the other hand to 
pound on the door. There was no response. 

“ Don’t wait at the door,” cried Hubbard, on 
his way to the barn; “my wife’s deef; she’ll 
never hear that pounding.” 


On Towards Murfreesboro 107 

So Carton boldly opened the door, and ushered 
George into the “ settin’-room.” It was a small, 
low-ceiled apartment, flanked on either side, as 
he afterwards observed, by a bedroom, and hav- 
ing, back of it, a large kitchen, which was also 
used as a dining-room. This settin’-room ” was 
plainly but comfortably furnished. On the walls 
hung engravings, which happened to be portraits 
of George Washington, John Adams and Daniel 
Webster; at one corner was a large chimney and 
hearth, from which blazed, despite the warmth of 
the day, a cheery wood-fire ; and at a little table 
in the centre of the room sat a wrinkled, wiz- 
ened old lady, who was knitting what seemed 
to be a coverlet or afghan. 

Carton shut the door, and made a polite bow 
to the knitter. She rose from her chair, returned 
the bow, and motioned the strangers to sit down 
upon a sofa near the fire. They accepted the in- 
vitation. “ It’s a cold day,” she said, in a feeble, 
cracked voice. 

Carton did not think it was by any means cold, 
but he was too polite to contradict the old lady, 
who had evidently reached a time of life when 
her sluggish circulation made all days feel wintry. 


io8 With Thomas in Tennessee 


So he made a gesture which was intended to 
say : ‘‘ Yes, it’s very cold.” Then she sat down 
and resumed her knitting. An old-fashioned up- 
right clock in one corner ticked monotonously. 
The hostess went on knitting, as her face would 
pucker up into a thousand wrinkles whenever 
she came to a stitch that was more difficult 
than the one before. A black cat strolled 
in from the kitchen, and rubbed herself against 
George’s legs, with loud purrs of content- 
ment. 

‘‘A black cat,” said Carton. That means 
good luck.” 

“ I hope so,” answered the boy, rather de- 
spondingly, as he stroked her ladyship on the 
back. ‘‘ But I don’t deserve any good luck after 
getting sick this way. I had no right to prevent 
your getting back to camp by this evening. You 
should have ridden on and left me.” 

The Captain merely laughed. “Don’t be a 
goose,” he said. “ I would no more desert you 
under such circumstances than you would desert 
me. And it isn’t your fault that you got the ague. 
How do you feel now ? ” 

“ Better,” rejoined George. “ But how are we 


On Towards Murfreesboro 


109 

to get out of this new complication, which I have 
brought you into ? ” 

“ Don’t worry,” answered Carton. ‘‘ We have 
done pretty well so far ; we will do equally well 
again, and by to-morrow night we will be re- 
counting our adventures to General Kosecrans 
and General Thomas.” 

“ Or else be adorning a gallows,” observed 
George. His attack had left him very weak ; he 
felt gloomy, for the first time since he had en- 
tered upon this enterprise. He could not 
forget that he was endangering the Captain’s 
life by the delay which this fit of ague had 
caused. 

At this moment Hubbard entered the room. 
Walking up to his wife he said: “ The boy here 
has got the ague. Where’s the quinine ? ” 

“ Cryin’ ! who ? ” asked the old lady, putting 
a hand up to her left ear. 

“ Cryin’, nothin’, mother,” returned the farmer, 
with some asperity. “ I tell you this boy has 
had a spell of ague, and he needs quinine.” 

It took some time to make Mrs. Hubbard un- 
derstand what the situation was, but, when she 
had at last mastered it, she began to bustle around 


no With Thomas in Tennessee 

with an energy that was simply wonderful. She 
dosed George with the medicine, and then made 
him lie down upon a sofa in the “ settin’-room ” ; 
she insisted on covering him up with a quilt, and 
then poured two glasses of milk down his throat. 
Furthermore, when Carton, who was beginning 
to be famished, asked for something to eat, she 
prepared for him a rasher of bacon and two fried 
eggs, which he devoured with the eagerness of a 
starving hyena. 

When all these duties had been attended to 
the old lady sat down once again at the table, 
and resumed her knitting. Carton occupied a 
chair on one side of the fireplace ; the farmer sat 
opposite to him; the boy slumbered near by, 
upon the sofa. 

“ Where’s Joshua ? ” suddenly enquired Mrs. 
Hubbard. 

Hubbard pointed towards the west, and made 
several gesticulations. They were perfectly clear 
to his wife, who shook her head to signify that 
she understood. ‘‘She’s speakin’ of my son, 
J osh. He’s over at G , buyin’ flour. I sup- 

pose you’re fer the South in this war ? ” he went 
on, suddenly looking at the Captain. 


On Towards Murfreesboro 1 1 1 

“ Of course,” answered the Union officer, not 
forgetting his part. 

“Well,” said Hubbard, “my son Josh is as 
great a rebel as ever lived. He thinks all the 
Yankees have hair on their teeth and ought to be 
shot on sight. Strange, though, when he was 
born in Connecticut thirty-two years ago, that 
he should hate his own kind. But he’s been 
brought up here — and that makes the difference.” 

“What are your sympathies ? ” asked the Cap- 
tain, as he devoutly hoped that he might not see 
much of the violent “ Josh.” 

The old man was about to reply when the door 
opened and there walked into the room a tall, 
stalwart fellow with a red face, blond moustache, 
and handsome features. His mouth was firmly 
set ; his eyes full of intelligence, and his general 
expression denoted great determination. 

“ Well, Josh, did you get the flour ? ” asked his 
father. 

“Yes; I brought it over in the wagon,” an- 
swered Joshua. He looked in surprise at the two 
strangers. His father thereupon explained to 
him why he had brought “ Mr. Andrews ” and 
his sick brother (“ Andrews” was the name the 


112 With Thomas in Tennessee 

two had given their host) to the farm. Joshua 
gave Carton a curt nod and kept silent. 

“ Anything new at the store ? ” queried Hub- 
bard. 

Joshua walked over to the mantelpiece and 
stood with his back to the fire, in imminent dan- 
ger of burning off the tails of his corduroy jacket. 
‘‘ There was one thing very new,” he said signifi- 
cantly. Two Federal spies escaped, early this 
morning, from the camp at Spring Hill. They 
are in this section somewhere, and General Yan 
Horn has sent out a general alarm to capture 
them.” 

Carton tried to appear unconcerned, or, at least, 
nothing more than politely interested. George 
slept on, in happy ignorance of the approach of 
danger. 

“ Have they given a description of the men ? ” 
asked the father. 

“Yes,” answered Joshua, looking very keenly 
at Carton. “ The description of the men is com- 
plete. One is a boy — the other a grown man, 
and both are dressed like farmers. Yery much 
as you are dressed, Mr. Andrews ! ” 

“ What in creation do you mean ? ” demanded 


On Towards Murfreesboro 1 13 

Carton, springing to his feet, quickly followed by 
the old man. 

“ I simply mean, my friend, that to any one 
who has half an eye in his head, and has heard 
the description of these spies, you and that boy 
on the sofa are the two fellows wanted ! ” 

Carton was about to make an angry denial, 
when the futility of such a proceeding impressed 
itself upon him. It was not possible to deceive 
Joshua. So he merely went over to the lounge 
where George slept, and gently shook him. The 
boy opened his eyes, stretched himself, and asked : 
‘‘ Why do you bother me. Captain ? I was sleep- 
ing so comfortably.” 

‘‘ I woke you,” answered the Captain in quick, 
nervous tones, “ because we have been accused of 
being spies by this gentleman here ” — pointing to 
Joshua — ‘‘ and you must be on your guard ! ” 

George sat up and eyed the younger Hubbard 
with no very affectionate glances. The old lady 
dropped her knitting on the table and exclaimed : 
“ Law’s a mercy me ! What’s ailin’ 3^ou all. 
Have any more sheep been killed by those dogs 
o’ Jerre Lee’s ? ” 

The husband leaned over and shouted in her 


114 With Thomas in Tennessee 

ear : “ No ; it’s nothing for you to hear. Go into 
the kitchen and git the churn ready for the 
milk.” 

The old woman waddled away, evidently dis- 
gusted, for she feared she might be missing a 
choice bit of countryside scandal. 

Then the three men and the boy gazed fixedly 
upon one another. It was a dramatic tableau, 
into which action was almost immediately inter- 
jected by the burly Joshua. Pulling a large pis- 
tol from his belt he swung it lightly in his right 
hand as he said half savagely, half ironically: 

No doubt you gentlemen carry firearms — it’s a 
necessity in your business — but if either o’ you 
try to get the drop on me, or make a movement 
to do it, you’re a dead coon ! ” 

‘‘ I’d rather be a live man than a dead coon,” 
answered the Captain placidly. He was perfectly 
at his ease, but inwardly he was reproaching him- 
self that he had not produced his own revolver 
first. Even as it was he would have risked a 
scrimmage were he not afraid that George might 
get shot in the meUe, The latter looked over at 
Carton from the lounge as much as to say : “ I’ll 
do whatever you wish me to,” and the Captain, 


On Towards Murfreesboro 115 

interpreting the glance, said aloud : “ Keep per- 
fectly still, George.” 

“And now, my friend,” asked Carton of 
Joshua, “what do you propose to do?” 

“ In the first place, to shoot either of you, if 
you move.” 

“Yes; you have said that before,” returned 
Carton. “But you can’t stand there all day;^ 
you’ll get so eternally tired.” 

In spite of himself, and of his anger against all 
enemies of the Southern Confederacy, Joshua 
Hubbard could not help admiring the pluck of 
his adversaries. “No,” he laughed; “I don’t 
intend to stand here all day — and I don’t want 
to make you more uncomfortable than necessary. 
Pop, do you get a clothes-line and bind the 
arms and feet first of the boy and then of the 
man, and while you do it I’ll send a bullet into 
the first fellow that makes any resistance.” 

The old man had been regarding this scene 
with a curious expression that might betoken 
any phase of feeling, so inscrutable was it. 

“ Josh, suppose you and I have an understand- 
ing right here, my son, once for all,” he said, 
stroking his white beard as he spoke. “ You are 


ii6 With Thomas in Tennessee 

an out-and-out Confederate— which, perhaps, is 
nat’ral, seein’ as you have been raised here 
since you was a two-year old. I don’t blame 
you, son. You’ve taken color from them as is 
around you ; that’s the way of the world. But 
you know, altho’ I doan go ’round screetchin’ 
it out to my neighbors, that I’m a Yankee out 
and out. I ain’t sayin’ that in this war the 
South hasn’t wrongs as well as the North, but I 
do say as I am a New Englander, first, last and 
all the time, and so long as I’ve breath in my 
body I’ll never lift my hand against a Union 
soldier, spies or no spies ! ” 

Had the heavens fallen through the roof of 
the little house the two Northerners could not 
have been more surprised at this sudden burst of 
rough eloquence from the farmer. When they 
had found that the old man had made no ex- 
ception to Joshua’s proceedings they took it for 
granted that father and son were in accord 
politically. This speech was a revelation to 
them. Even Joshua started back in amazement. 
“Come, father,” he said, in a tone of rebuke, 
“ I knew you liked your old home, but I thought 
you cared fer the South too, and ” 


On Towards Murfreesboro 117 

‘‘ So I do,’’ interrupted Hiram ; “ I like the 
South, but I remember where I was raised, and 
where your family lived for six generations, and 
I’m a Northerner till death. So I’m not a goin’ 
back on the first poor devil of a Northerner 
who gets into hot water for servin’ his 
country.” 

George could not restrain bis enthusiasm. 
“ Hurrah ! ” he cried ; ‘‘ I tell you, farmer, you’re 
a trump ! ” 

J oshua looked long at his father, as if he dared 
not trust himself to speak. There was an angry 
glitter in his eyes. At last he said, trying to 
control his voice : “ Am I to understand, pop, 
that you refuse to help me turn these spies over 
to the Confederates ? ” 

u Pqp » more stroked his beard, as if the 
process helped to soothe his intense feelings. 
‘‘Yes,” he answered, “I shan’t lift a finger to 
harm these two. And, what’s more, I don’t 
calculate as you will, either ! ” 

“What do you mean?” demanded Joshua. 
He was fast losing his temper. 

“ I mean that this is my house. Josh, and, as 
long as they are under my roof, no harm shall 


1 18 With Thomas in Tennessee 

come to them. I’m not as young as I was, but 
I’m still master of my own farm ! ” 

‘‘You may be master of your own farm, but 
the Confederate government won’t let you keep 
spies under your roof, all the same.” 

“ But the Confederate government knows 
nothin’ about it. Josh.” 

“Humph, they soon will,” returned Joshua. 
“I’m goin’ back to the store now to send a 
messenger to Yan Dorn’s headquarters.” 

“Then you expect us to remain here, to be 
caught like two silly rabbits ? ” asked Carton. 

“ I rather think you won’t get very far away,” 
replied Joshua, as a triumphant light came into 
his eyes. “I see two horses in pop’s barn; I 
reckon you and the boy escaped on ’em. Well, 
I shall ride one of those horses over to the store 
and lead the other, so that you’ll have nothing 
to use but our old mules, and they go so con- 
foundedly slow that it won’t be long before the 
cavalry will nab you, go you anywhere, on the 
highroad or off it.” 

Carton laughed. “ You’re too bright for farm- 
ing,” he said, looking at Joshua. 

“ Thank you,” answered Joshua, still keeping 


On Towards Murfreesboro iig 

his revolver in his hand ready for instant use. 
He backed towards the door, opened it and dis- 
appeared. 

“ Hurry,” whispered Carton to George. Out 

with our pistols ! Let’s run to the barn, disarm 
this man, even if we must shoot him down ! ” 
Hiram Hubbard suddenly ran to the door, 
which he closed, and stood before it, with his 
arms akimbo. “Beg pardon, my friends,” he 
said, very simply but firmly ; “ Josh Hubbard is 
my son, and while I’m for the Horth in this war 
I doan propose as any one, Northerner or South- 
erner, shall hurt my son. My son is — well, jest 
my son — and more to me, gentlemen, than North 
or South — than Abe Lincoln or Jeff Davis.” 

Carton walked over to the old farmer and 
shook him by the hand. “ I respect you for what 
you have said,” he announced. “ And as you 
have stood our friend in this matter, God pre- 
vent that we should harm one hair of your son’s 
head. Let him do what he will — go where he 
will — he is your son — and you have stood by us 
— and that is enough ! ” 

It was a solemn scene where all questions of 
section, or politics, were lost sight of in the 


120 With Thomas in Tennessee 

broader question of family affection on the one 
side, and, on the other side, of respect for that 
self-same affection. 

Old Hubbard advanced and put a horny hand 
on Carton’s shoulder. ‘‘Thank you,” he said, 
“ for understanding that my son is more to me 
than the troubles between North and South. 
There he goes now,” he added. 

The three in the room listened eagerly. They 
could hear Joshua riding away, and they Judged 
from the clatter of hoofs that he not only rode 
one of the spies’ horses, but that he took the 
other with him, in leash. 

The face of Farmer Hubbard now lightened ; 
his kindly eyes seemed to gleam with hope. 
“Now that Josh has gone,” he continued, “and 
that you won’t fire into him, I’m at liberty to do 
what I kin to help you. The only thing is, 
brother, what kin I do ? ” 

It must be admitted that the prospect of doing 
anything successfully, by way of escape, did not 
seem very encouraging. George was still very 
weak from his chill, and it was not likely that 
even if he were fit to ride, the mules in old 
Hubbard’s barn could enable them to get very 


On Towards Murfreesboro 121 

far without being overtaken either by hounds or 
cavalry horses. Carton expressed these thoughts 
to the old man in a few, short sentences. “ It 
looks as if we must be surely taken,” he added, 
with the air of a man who has resolved to face 
the inevitable. 

George left his sofa, and walked over to where 
the Captain was no\y standing, near the fire- 
place. “Count on me, whatever happens,” he 
said courageously, but without any attempt at 
braggadocio. 

“ But I doan know as to yer bein’ taken,” pur- 
sued Hubbard, who had been in deep thought 
during the past minute or two. “ I’ve a plan. 
Listen ! ” 

The two spies were only too glad to listen to 
any plan that might promise them deliverance. 

“It’s this,” explained Hubbard. “As yer 
can’t possibly escape from here quick enough to 
avoid bein’ snapped up by the rebels, the only 
thing to do is to hide.” 

“ Hide where ? ” asked George, who began to 
feel a trifle better in .mind and body. 

“Eight in this house,” answered the farmer. 

“ I’m afraid your son would find us out,” ob- 


122 With Thomas in Tennessee 

served Carton. “ He must know this house like 
a book.” 

“ Perhaps he does,” said Hubbard, “ but I 
guess as when my wife and I put our heads 
together we may be as smart as he is.” He 
assumed the air of a proud peacock : it was plain 
that his vanity was at stake. “I’ll speak to 
Sarah,” he added, as he walked into the kitchen. 

“ My dear boy,” said Carton, looking at 
George as the farmer left the room, “ if we get 
out of this last scrape I think our lives will be 
insured for a thousand years.” 

“ I really think that we shall see the Union camp 
again,” answered George. 

“I hope so,” said Captain Carton. “It’s 

either that, or ” He pointed significantly to 

his throat. 


CHAPTEE Y 


HOME AGAIN 

In a few minutes — indeed, in three or four 
minutes — Hiram Hubbard returned, leading his 
wife. She looked smilingly upon the fugitives. 
It was evident that she was a Northern sym- 
pathizer. 

“ Me and Sarah has had a kind o’ conference,” 
he explained, “and we’ve come to a conclusion.” 

Carton and George might have said that from 
the yelling in which Hiram had indulged, muffled 
though it might be by the closed door between 
kitchen and “ settin’-room,” they were fully 
aware that a “ conference ” had been in progress. 
But they were too diplomatic to express their 
thoughts. They simply nodded an assent. 

“It’s jest this way,” said Hiram. “Ye can’t 
either of you, possibly get any sort of a leeway 
by try in’ to get away from the farm. Now that 
Josh has taken your two horses there’s only a 
few spavined mules to use — and they go at the 

123 


124 With Thomas in Tennessee 

rate of five miles an hour. The Confederates 
would soon catch up to you.” 

“ I understand that thoroughly,” returned the 
Captain. “ To leave this house would be fatal.” 

“Well, then. I’ll tell you our plan,” continued 
Hubbard. Here Mrs. Hubbard sat down at her 
table and began to knit as placidly as if nothing 
had happened. “Yer can’t hide in this settin’- 
room ; yer can’t hide in the kitchen, or in Josh’s 
bedroom, or in our bedroom, or in the cellar, or 
in the attic, or in the barn, or in any of the out- 
houses, because Josh knows the place from A to 
Z, and if he comes back here Avith the soldiers, 
or is here when the soldiers come, he will pry 
into every nook and corner.” 

“Exactly,” said Carton. “In other Avords, 
there’s no hiding from him ; eh ? ” 

“’Cepting in one place,” explained Hubbard. 
“ What’s the matter Avith the corn-crib ? ” 

“ The corn-crib ? ” asked George. “ Why you 
can see right through a corn-crib.” 

“ It’s all in the Avay you git into it,” said Hub- 
bard. “My crib is about half full o’ ears o’ 
dried corn. How if you fellows Avill lie down 
on the corn, and put some of the ears over you, 


125 


Home Again 

so as yer whole bodies and heads will be covered, 
no one will see you, and, what’s more, no one 
will ever think of looking for you there.” 

Carton slapped Hubbard on the back, and then 
shook him warmly by the hand. “You’re a 
genius,” he cried, “ and, better than that, a good 
friend to two unfortunates who are sadly in need 
of friends.” Then he bowed to Mrs. Hubbard, 
who appeared to have some idea of what he had 
said. “I told him,” she quavered, pointing to 
her husband, “that I was jest as much of a 
Yankee as he is, and I’d do all I could to help 
you.” 

“Hush, mother! What’s that?” the voice 
was that of the farmer. He strained his ears ; 
it seemed as if he heard some unwelcome sound 
off in the distance. He ran to the door and was 
soon out of the house. In a couple of minutes 
he returned, full of excitement. “Josh must 
have met some of the cavalry on the road,” he 
cried ; “ they are coming up the lane. I can 
hear the clatter of the horses. Come ! There’s 
not a second to lose ! ” 

Quick as a flash Carton and George followed 
the farmer out of the house and down to the 


126 With Thomas in Tennessee 

barn. To the right of this small structure was a 
crib half filled, as Hubbard had explained, with 
dried corn. The old man threw open the door 
and began to pitch the ears out upon the ground 
until he had thus extracted about a quarter of 
the contents. 

“ The cavalry are almost here,” cried George, 
who was now helping the farmer in his task 
assisted by Carton. They could hear horses 
coming up the lane, and at last the sound of 
voices. 

“ Then in with you ! ” said Hubbard. He 
pushed the spies into the crib. “ Lie down on 
the corn — flat — that way — just as if you were 
going to sleep.” As soon as they obeyed him 
the farmer threw the corn ears that were on the 
ground back into the crib, so that the bodies of 
the two hiders were pretty well covered. Any 
one looking carelessly through the slats of the 
receptacle would see nothing but the corn. 

“Now keep as still as you possibly can till I 
get rid of these fellows,” commanded Hubbard ; 
“and whatever you do be sure to stay just 
where you are till I tell you to come out.” 

He had just time to shut the door of the crib, 


Home Again 127 

and move back to the portico of the house, before 
the pursuers arrived. They comprised four cav- 
alrymen, well armed, and Joshua, who rode Car- 
ton’s mare and led the bay. 

“Well, pop,” called out Joshua, as he drew up 
with his companions in front of the portico, “ did 
those two fellows get away ? ” As he spoke he 
winked cautiously at his father, and the latter 
understood what was meant to be conveyed to 
him. The wink said, plainly enough : “ I intend 
to get these spies, but I don’t intend to get you 
into trouble by saying you are in league with 
them.” The father had protected the son from 
death a few moments before ; now the son was, 
however unconsciously, returning the compliment. 

“No,” replied the old man. “Them durned 
rascals got away — bad luck to ’em, and the last 
as I see of them they was running back into the 
country, up the lane here.” 

“ Then we have got them sure,” cried one of 
the horsemen. He pointed to a large hound 
which had accompanied him and was whining 
impatiently behind his horse. “ This boy’ll track 
’em, won’t you, Jupiter ? ” 

“Jupiter ” gave a significant howl, as much as 


128 With Thomas in Tennessee 

to say that Jie was only too anxious for a man- 
hunt. 

“ But before you begin the chase, fellows, let’s 
ransack the house and the barn,” said Joshua. 
“ While my father’s back was turned they 
may have run back and hidden here. They 
were just smart enough to do a thing like 
that.” 

Joshua felt convinced that the spies were hid- 
den, as he suggested, either in the house or the 
barn, and he believed that his father knew where 
they could be found. But he was careful not to 
let the Confederates think that he suspected the 
old man. 

“ Go in and hunt, bo3^s,” said Hiram, with an 
alacrity and cheerfulness that rather puzzled his 
son. “ I’ll help you all I can.” 

“ Perhaps the spies are not here, after all,” 
thought Joshua. But he resolved to institute a 
hunt, under any circumstances. “ Let’s tiy the 
barn first,” he ordered. 

The men all rode over to the barn, where they 
dismounted and quartered their horses. Then 
they went through the building, searching every 
nook and cranny, peering into the stalls, and 


Home Again 1 29 

even poking the hay to make sure that no one 
was underneath. 

“No one here ; that’s certain,” finally observed 
Joshua, and to this sentiment his companions 
agreed. So they walked out of the barn, cas- 
ually inspected the sheepfold and the pig-pen, 
and glanced, rather mechanically than by inten- 
tion, at the corn-crib. They saw the corn 
through the slats, and a more innocent-looking 
sight they could not have gazed upon. Had 
Joshua been in a mood to examine into the re- 
sources and supplies of the farm he might have 
noticed that the stock of corn had risen a foot or 
more since the day before, but his thoughts were 
in another direction. 

For a minute Joshua stood almost touching 
the crib. It was an awful minute for the two in 
the corn. They realized that the slightest move- 
ment on their part, even an involuntary sigh, 
might catch the ear of the young man. But 
Joshua started back for the house, accompanied 
by the soldiers. He had heard nothing. 

“That was a narrow escape,” whispered 
George, when he heard the party enter the 
house. 


130 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ Narrow 1 ” said Carton. “ 1 should say so. 
We were within an eighth of an inch of dis- 
covery. I hope these fellows will go soon. I’m 
getting so stiff I feel as if I had incurable rheu- 
matism.” 

“They brought a hound with them,” whis- 
pered the boy. 

“ What ? ” said the Captain. “ I didn’t hear it 
over here.” 

“No,” answered George, “but I distinctly 
heard it whining when the men came in the 
gate.” 

It may naturally be asked what had become 
of “Jupiter,” and why he did not go with the 
hunters upon their search in the barn ? The 
answer has to do with the shrewdness of old 
Hiram Hubbard. When the old man saw the 
dog, as the cavalrymen had first ridden up to 
the portico, he realized that if the animal got 
over to the barn he might accidentally scent the 
spies in the crib and thus call attention to their 
whereabouts. He resolved to prevent this catas- 
trophe, at least. Two things aided him in this 
intention. In the first place, the men did not 
expect the aid of the dog in the barn ; they 


Home Again 131 

wanted him to track down the fugitives across 
country, if it turned out that they had really left 
the farm. In the second place, Master “ Jupi- 
ter,’’ being a dog of healthy appetite, and sniffing 
something cooking, stole around to the back of 
the kitchen whilst the soldiers were talking at 
the portico. Thus, the moment that the men 
started otf for the stable, Hiram ran back to the 
kitchen, opened the door, enticed the dog in, and 
threw him half a dozen bones that promised to 
keep his teeth well employed for an hour. 
“ J upiter ” forgot all about the barn, and settled 
down to attack his new breakfast. 

When the men returned from the barn they in- 
stituted a strict search of the house, with Joshua 
at their head. Bedrooms, sitting-room, cellar, 
kitchen and a woodshed were all visited ; clos- 
ets were opened; nothing was left unexplored, 
but in vain. 

“ One thing’s sure,” said Joshua ; “ the rogues 
are not on the farm.” The pursuers were all 
back in the sitting-room. 

“Just what I told you. Josh,” observed his 
father. “ You have only been wasting precious 
time.” 


132 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Thereat the elder Hubbard looked as if he 
thought he had been misjudged. 

Joshua stared at his father. I’d like to 
know,” he thought, “whether pop is playing a 
part or not.” But he kept his reflections to him- 
self. He had no intention of getting the old man 
into trouble. The whole Confederacy might suc- 
ceed or fail, but he was determined, despite his 
warm adherence to the cause of the South, to be 
a loyal son. He believed, at any rate, that the 
fugitives were not concealed anywhere on the 
farm ; he thought it likely that they were trying 
to escape across country, just as Hiram Hubbard 
had announced. 

“ Come, boys,” he said, turning to the cavalry- 
men; “let’s run ’em down. They can’t be far 
away from here yet. Where’s your dog ? ” He 
turned and looked enquiringly at the owner of 
the hound. 

“ Why he’s gnawing bones in our kitchen,” ex- 
plained Hiram Hubbard. 

“Yes, I saw him,” answered “Jupiter’s” 
master; “he was taking a second break- 
fast.” 

“Then call him,” said Joshua. He was be- 


Home Again 133 

coming impatient at the delay. He was chafing 
to be after the spies. 

“Jupiter’s” master, a thick-set, sturdy young 
fellow, gave a long, low whistle. The hound 
came bustling in from the kitchen, as if he thought 
he had been caught in the commission of a crime. 

“ There’ll be work for you, Jupiter,” said his 
master. “ ISTo more breakfast.” 

Jupiter looked first at his owner, and then back 
at Mrs. Hubbard, who was now standing over 
the fireplace in the kitchen. It was a struggle 
between eating and duty — and he finally decided 
in favor of duty. 

Joshua suddenly looked at the little table in 
the sitting-room, upon which his mother had left 
her knitting. There was on it not only the knit- 
ting, but something more — a soft, faded slouch 
hat, gray and dirty. “ Well, I’ll be durned,” 
he cried, with an air of triumphant dis- 
covery, “ if this isn’t lucky. Here’s the hat 
the older spy wore. We can use it to give 
Jupiter ! ” 

The soldiers inspected the hat with expressions 
of approval. 

“Good,” said “Jupiter’s” owner. “If I give 


134 - With Thomas in Tennessee 

my dog that hat, and let him smell it, he’ll track 
its wearer to the end of the earth ! ” 

Hiram Hubbard gave an unpleasant start. It 
came over him, with a sickly feeling, that if ‘‘ J u- 
piter ” got the scent of the hat he would, in all 
human probability, track its wearer right to the 
corn-crib. Something must be done, and at once. 
But what ? While he was trying to think of a 
solution of the difficulty, and realizing that every 
second’s delay might mean an additional nail in 
the coffins of the two Northerners, Joshua said: 
‘‘ Give the beast a whiff of the hat, and come on. 
We can’t let the spies get too long a start of us.” 

He was about to throw the slouch hat to the 
dog when, to the surprise of all, Hiram Hubbard 
suddenly intervened. He seized the hat, threw it 
into the fire blazing in the hearth of the sitting- 
room, and calmly surveyed the amazed soldiers, 
and the no less amazed Joshua. The flames at 
once consumed it until nothing was left of it save 
a charred bit of blackened cloth. Then the 
old farmer spoke. He had a part to play, and he 
was determined to play it well. 

‘‘ Perhaps yer think it’s queer in me th rowin’ 
that there hat in the fire,” he said. There was a 


135 


Home Again 

provokingly nasal twang in his voice. It was 
provoking, at least, to the owner of ‘‘Jupiter,” 
who exclaimed angrily : “ By what right do you 
destroy something that will help us to track these 
spies ? Are you friends of theirs ? This is abom- 
inable ! ” 

“ You can call it whatsoever you like,” returned 
Hubbard, who began to feel very bold now that 
the hat was fairly consumed. “ I jest throwed in 
that hat because I doan believe in huntin’ a man 
with a dog. Let a man hunt a man, and a dog 
hunt a dog, but never let a dog hunt a man. So 
I says.” 

The listeners gazed upon the farmer in perfect 
astonishment, and their thoughts were well 
echoed by “Jupiter’s” master, who asked 
brusquely : “ Are you crazy, old man ? ” They 

were not used to such philosophy as this. 

“ It goes ag’in my conscience,” went on Hub- 
bard. “ If you want to hunt a man hunt him 
square, without depending on dogs ! ” 

Joshua regarded his father attentively. 
“ What can the old man be up to ? ” he thought. 

The fact was that the “ old man ” was simply 
talking, as the expression goes, for “ talk’s sake.” 


136 With Thomas in Tennessee 

He cared little or nothing whether or not a man 
was chased by a dog, but he had burned the hat, 
and he felt it incumbent on him to give some ex- 
cuse, however far-fetched it might be. 

Look here,” cried one of the soldiers, who 
had not yet spoken. “ Do you know that you 
have put an obstacle in the way of the Confed- 
erate army, and have made yourself liable to ar- 
rest ? ” 

“ My conscience comes before any army,” an- 
swered the farmer, stroking his beard with an 
affectation of extreme piety. 

“ Nonsense,” went on the man. “ Your con- 
science has nothing to do with the case.” 

Joshua walked forward and stood with his 
broad back to the fireplace. He was well aware 
that his father had gained a point by burning 
the hat — little did he understand how great a 
point — but he had no intention that the old man 
should be harmed for what he had done. “ Look 
here, my friends,” he said, in clear, ringing 
tones, “My pop here has acted according to 
his lights — and I don’t propose that he’ll be 
sassed by any of you. So take care.” 

Here every one began to talk at once, so that 


Home Again 137 

for several minutes a sort of pandemonium 
reigned in the little room. Angry voices filled 
the air; only the voice of Hiram Hubbard re- 
mained suave, as he went on declaring that he 
was constitutionally opposed to the use of dogs 
for hunting down men. The cavalrymen shouted 
that by burning up the hat he had made himself 
an enemy to the Confederacy, whilst Joshua, 
whose sensations were of a rather mixed nature, 
protested that no one should abuse his father. 
He was very angry at the old man, and yet fear- 
ful that the soldiers might commit some violence 
upon him. 

At last, realizing that they were wasting pre- 
cious time, the pursuing party, including Joshua 
and “Jupiter,’* ran down to the barn, mounted 
their horses, and rode away in their vain search 
for the spies. 

Hiram watched them leave the farm from a 
window of the sitting-room. He chuckled as he 
said : “ I had to invent some excuse for burning 

that there hat. I hope it won’t git me into a 
Confederate jail, though. Pshaw ! ” He opened 
the door, walked out on the portico, and 
listened. The sound of the men scampering up 


138 With Thomas in Tennessee 

the muddy lane gradually grew fainter and 
fainter. He stepped off the portico and was 
about to hurry over to the barn when he changed 
his mind and walked slowly out to the gateway 
of the farm. “ Yer can’t be too keerful,” he 
said to himself, gazing carefully up the lane. 
“ One of those fellows might have come sneak- 
ing back.” But no one was in sight. Then he 
looked at the sky. The sun was shining brightly 
and the air was so soft and balmy that it was 
hard to understand that winter had not passed 
away. ‘‘It will be clear to-night, and a good 
moon by to-morrow night,” he said, “ but it can’t 
be helped.” With that enigmatical remark he 
turned from the gate, walked quickly over to the 
barn, and thence to the corn-crib. “ Out with 
you, boys,” he cried, as he opened the door. 
“ The soldiers have rid off, and ye’re to have a 
little breathing spell.” 

What welcome news this was to George and 
Carton. They had become cramped almost be- 
yond endurance among the ears of corn, so that 
when they received Hiram’s order they jumped 
up, and out of the crib, with as much alacrity as 
their stiffened joints would permit. George, 


Home Again 1 39 

who had held his battered straw hat in his hand 
during their incarceration in the corn, now thrust 
it upon his head. 

“ By Jove, I left my hat in the house,” said 
the bareheaded Captain. He had forgotten all 
about it. 

“Ye — es,” replied the farmer grimly, “and it 
came plaguy close to gettin’ you somewhere 
where you’d never need a hat again.” There- 
upon he told the spies, very briefly, what had 
occurred in the house. They began to pour out 
their thanks to the kind-hearted Yankee, but he 
cut them short. “ There ain’t no time fer grati- 
tude,” he said. “ I must git ye both in the barn.” 

He hurried them into the stable and up to the 
hayloft, where he told them how he hoped to 
send them in safety on their way to Murfrees- 
boro, for they frankly divulged to him where 
they came from, and the nature of their mission. 
His plan was thus outlined. The spies were to 
remain in the loft — a part of the stable which 
Joshua had not penetrated — until the following 
night, and the farmer would contrive to provide 
them secretly with food. This would allow 
George plenty of time to rest from the effects of 


140 With Thomas in Tennessee 

his ague, and also would afford needed rest to the 
black mare upon which Joshua was now riding 
in his vain search for the fugitives. The bay 
horse was now down-stairs, in one of the mule 
stalls. When about eleven o’clock of the follow- 
ing evening arrived George and Carton were to 
mount these horses, ride quietly out of the barn, 
so as not to awaken the son, and then make 
a great dash for Murfreesboro and liberty. 
“ I’m sorry to-morrow will be moonlight,” added 
Hiram. “ It would be better if yer could git 
away in the dark.” 

“ But on the other hand,” said Carton, “ we 
can see the road better.” 

The farmer now left the barn but soon re- 
turned bearing a large basket that contained a 
miscellaneous, yet very welcome collection of 
articles. He placed them on the floor of the 
loft and disclosed cold sausages, some ham, hard 
boiled eggs, salt in a piece of newspaper, cold 
potatoes, a pot of hominy, a demijohn of water, 
two knives (forks were not included), some qui- 
nine for George, and two large, tattered books. 
The latter were ‘‘ The Plays of William Shakes- 
peare,” and Young’s Night Thoughts.” 


141 


Home Again 

“ Thought you boys might want books to read 
while ye’re hidin’,” explained Hiram, “ and 
them’s the only two books I own ’cept a book on 
farmin’, written, I’ll bet, by a man who never 
seen within forty miles of a farm.” 

George and Carton felt like hugging the 
farmer, and would have done so, no doubt, had 
not the old man showed himself greatly em- 
barrassed at their evident gratitude. “I’ll be 
back here to-morrow sometime, when Josh goes 
to the store,” he said, “ and meantime you two 
keep quiet as moles ef yer hear any one around 
the barn.” The next minute he had disappeared. 
But he called back softly, when he reached the 
bottom of the ladder leading to the loft : “ They 
say those theatre-plays of William Shakespeare 
are wuth readin’, though there’s no telling. 
Books is mighty deceitful.” 

“ This is slightly more comfortable than the 
other stable we were in this morning,” laughed 
Carton a few minutes later, as he took a long, 
refreshing pull at the water jug. 

“We have a different sort of a host — God 
bless him,” answered George. 

The two talked in whispers, read, or helped 


142 With Thomas in Tennessee 

themselves to food, until about four o’clock in 
the afternoon. Then they heard the soft thud 
of a horse’s hoofs, coming into the farm, and 
swiftly down to the barn. The rider dis- 
mounted, flung open the door of the latter, and 
led the animal inside. They easily guessed that 
it was the disappointed Joshua returning with 
the black mare. 

Hardly had Joshua unsaddled the mare, and 
put her in a stall, before his father walked into 
the barn. 

“ Well, Josh,” the hiders in the loft heard him 
say, “ what luck ? ” 

“ Ko luck, darn it,” answered the son. I’d 
like to know how you got those fellows off 
so cleverly. Won’t you tell me, pop ? ” 

“ Yes, I’ll tell you,” said the farmer. 

‘‘ Well ? ” asked Joshua eagerly. 

“I’ll tell you after this here Civil War is 
over,” returned the old man. 

Joshua uttered an exclamation more forcible 
than polite. 

“ Come, my boy,” said Hiram, in a more kindly 
tone, “you’re fer the South in this wretched 
quarrel, and I’m fer the North, but we are father 


Home Again 143 

and son, and there ain’t no use in our quarreling, 
too.” 

“You’re right,” replied Joshua, after a pause. 
“You’re my father first, and a Yankee after- 
wards. I think I showed you when those caval- 
rymen were here to-day that I wouldn’t let them 
harm a hair of your old head. They have gone 
back to Yan Dorn’s camp howling mad at not 
finding the spies. They were howling mad 
at you, too, but I fixed that all right.” 

“ How did yer do it, J osh ? ” 

“ Told ’em you were a little daft — crazy, and 
that you had all sorts o’ ‘luny’ ideas about 
dogs ! ” 

“ Good,” laughed Hiram. In several more 
minutes the father and son left the barn, evi- 
dently on very good terms with each other. 
Family affection had the higher claim. 

****** 

We will now cover, in a second, more than 
twenty-four hours of time, and ask our readers to 
peer into the Hubbard barn the following evening, 
at about eleven o’clock. They may see, through 
the pale moonlight that pours into the hayloft 


With Thomas in Tennessee 


144 

through an open window, that George and Carton 
are cautiously descending the ladder. They have 
seen Hiram once during the day ; he has brought 
them more food, given them their final instruc- 
tions, and has taken farewell of them after a 
hundred expressions of fervent thanks from the 
Northerners. 

“ It’s dark as pitch down here,” whispered 
Carton, as he reached the bottom of the ladder. 
The ground floor of the barn was, indeed, with- 
out a ray of light, as the windows, or rather the 
shutters, were tightly closed, and the moonshine 
which illumined the loft was conspicuous by its 
absence. George, who was already on the ground, 
was groping about for the stalls. Suddenly he 
gave a sharp cry ; there was a squeal from a 
mule ; a horse began to neigh, and every animal 
in the place seemed to be kicking simultaneously. 

“ What on earth’s the matter ? ” demanded the 
Captain. 

“ I thought I was in the bay’s stall,” explained 
the boy, ‘‘ and I got into one of these plaguy 
mule’s, by mistake, and frightened the old ninny.” 

‘‘Hope it won’t wake up Joshua,” muttered 
Carton. “Shut up, you fools,” he added sav- 


Home Again 145 

agely, addressing the mules, who, thoroughly 
alarmed by the unexpected descent of the spies, 
were indulging in a succession of exasperating 
cries. 

George bit his lip in sheer vexation. Yv^ould 
the three inmates of the Hubbard farmhouse be 
aroused, and would Joshua think there were 
men in the barn ? 

The two fugitives made their way carefully 
along the stalls, speaking to the animals in sooth- 
ing tones. At last they succeeded in reassuring 
the mules ; their squealing ceased, and all was 
quiet. George got into the stall where the bay 
was standing and patted the creature, while 
Carton took the same precaution with the black 
mare. Then they crept cautiously to the door of 
the barn and listened. No sound, save the hoot- 
ing of an owl, came from the outside. 

“ I can’t hear anything,” whispered Carton. 
“ I guess the noise didn’t wake them up, after 
all.” 

“ Listen ! ” said the boy. 

There was dead silence for a moment, and 
then Carton asked : “ Did you hear anything ? I 
did not.” 


146 With Thomas in Tennessee 

I thought I heard a faint sound — the sound 
of a door clicking.” 

They waited for fully ten minutes, with ears 
pressed against the door, but no sound, save the 
owl, and once the barking of a distant dog, dis- 
turbed the stillness of the night. 

“It must have been my imagination,” said 
George at last. 

“ Yes,” answered his companion ; “ if the noise 
had awakened them at the house either Joshua 
or his father would have been over here by this 
time. But let’s wait a few minutes more; it 
will be safer. Then we will be perfectly sure.” 

Nearly a quarter of an hour had elapsed when 
Carton said : “ Now for it, my boy. The coast 
is perfectly clear now. And before this time to- 
morrow may we be telling our adventures to 
Kosecrans and Thomas.” 

Although the time was now ripe for departure, 
it proved by no means easy to make ready the 
bay and the black mare. Hiram Hubbard had 
told the Northerners where the hooks were on 
which the harness was always kept, and it was 
to these hooks, in the back part of the stable, 
that they stumbled their way in order to find the 


Home Again 147 

saddles and bridles of the stolen cavalry horses. 
When they reached these hooks, after some 
trouble, and fearful that they might again alarm 
the stupid mules by their stealthy movements, 
they had considerable difficulty in finding their 
bridles in the darkness, amid the bewildering 
array of straps, reins, harness, and other things, 
used by the farmer. Finally they obtained what 
they wanted, led the horses from their stalls, and 
saddled them, as best they could, under such 
disadvantages. Then Carton led his mare back 
into her stall, and hitched her there. 

“ What are you doing that for ? ” asked the 
boy. 

‘‘ Because, before we begin our long journey 
we had better take a glimpse outside the barn, 
to make perfectly sure no one is about. Put the 
bay back in his stall for a second. Then we’ll 
come back, mount, and be off.” 

George obeyed this direction. Then Carton 
slowly opened the door. A rich flood of moon- 
light burst into the barn, almost blinding them 
for a moment. The night was beautiful; the 
air was still balmy ; all nature seemed full of 
peace and gentleness. 


148 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ The time has come,” said Carton, almost 
solemnly. With two swift horses, a clear night, 
and no one stirring, they seemed so near deliver- 
ance from their enemies. Yet who could tell 
what might happen between here and the camp 
at Murfreesboro. 

‘‘ You are ready for a fast ride ? ” he asked of 
George, ‘‘ and you feel all right again ? No 
more ague ? ” 

“ I feel like a fighting cock,” murmured 
George. He longed to be on the bay and 
away. 

“ Then let’s be off,” said Carton. They were 
about to step back to the barn when a stalwart 
figure suddenly leaped from behind the corn-crib 
and ran forward to them. It was Joshua Hub- 
bard ! 

He held in his right hand a revolver which he 
flourished in the faces of the Northerners. “ So 
I’ve got you rascals at last, have I ? ” he panted. 
“ I heard a noise in the barn, sneaked out of the 
house, crawled down here, listened, knew there 
was some one inside, and waited. But I didn’t 
expect to be so lucky as this ! ” 

Carton eyed the farmer’s son without any dis- 


Home Again 149 

may. I suppose you think you have got the 
drop on us again ? ’’ he said. 

“ Yes, once again,” snarled Joshua. His 
eyes gleamed with the ferocity of a wild animal 
which has at length tracked a long-sought 
victim. 

“ Hot yet ! ” cried Carton. As he spoke, quick 
as lightning, he put down his head, made a rush, 
and fairly butted himself into Joshua’s legs. His 
adversary, completely taken by surprise by the 
rapidity and the ingenuity of the movement, lost 
his balance, lurched heavily forward, and 
sprawled with his face upon the ground. 

Quick ! ” shouted Carton. He threw himself 
on the prostrate Joshua, wrenched the revolver 
from his hand, threw it to George, who skil- 
fully caught it, and then grabbed the farmer’s 
son by the throat. “ If you dare to move, or try 
to get up,” he cried, “ the boy here will fire that 
pistol straight into you ! ” 

Joshua made a motion, faint though it might 
be, that signified submission, and the Captain re- 
laxed the grasp upon his throat, and stood up. 
George kept the revolver pointed upon their 
enemy. 


150 With Thomas in Tennessee 

‘‘ Look here, Hubbard,” said Carton, looking 
down at the farmer in a not unkindly fashion, 
yet with a determined expression on his strong 
face ; “ we don’t propose to harm a hair of your 
head, if you behave like a sensible man. We 
haven’t any quarrel with you ; you’re acting up 
to your own lights as a Confederate. But we 
are going to ride away from here, and make a 
dash for our camp at Murfreesboro. Do you 
understand ? ” 

‘‘ It’s as plain as the nose on my face,” growled 
Joshua, who did not relish his present recumbent 
position. You want to escape the hanging you 
deserve ! ” 

Carton laughed. “ Exactly,” he answered. 
“ No one in this world wants to get what he 
really deserves. And so, George, I’ll ask you to 
go into the barn, feel around till you get to the 
harness hooks, and bring out a few leather straps 
that will do to bind up Mr. Hubbard with. 
We’ll tie his hands and feet and let him repose in 
the barn until his father comes to the rescue. 
Hand me the pistol.” 

George turned over the revolver to Carton 
who pointed it in the face of Joshua, and disap- 


Home Again 1 5 1 

peared into the barn. Joshua uttered, under his 
breath, what must have been an oath. 

“We are not going to do you any injury,” 
said the Captain, in a reassuring tone. 

“ Pooh ! ” snarled Joshua, than whom there 
was no more courageous man in all Tennessee, 
“ d’ye think I’m frightened ? ” 

Carton drew himself up. “ Not a bit,” he ex- 
plained. “ You’re no coward ! That’s plain. I 
only wanted to say that no harm should come 
from us to the son of Hiram Hubbard, be he 
Confederate or Northerner.” 

The moonlight shining on the upturned face of 
Joshua Hubbard showed a grim twinkle in his 
eyes. “ I’d like to make a good rebel of pop,” 
he said, between his set teeth. 

George now returned from the barn with 
leather straps taken from the harness hooks. 
These he proceeded to use in tying first the 
hands and then the feet of Joshua, whilst Carton 
held the pistol poised warningly over the head of 
the disgusted Tennessean. 

“ Good-bye, my friend,” said Carton. “ It’s a 
pleasant night and you can’t come to any harm 
lying out here until your father turns up. Give 


152 With Thomas in Tennessee 

him our regards — and tell him we shall never, 
never forget his kindness, and his loyalty to the 
cause of the Yankees.’* He went back into the 
barn as he spoke, followed by George. The two 
soon reappeared leading their horses, which they 
immediately mounted. 

Come on, George,” commanded Carton. He 
waved his hand at Joshua, flat upon the ground, 
and galloped away from the barn, with the boy 
close behind him. The two passed the farm- 
house, and were soon running along the lane. 
At the end of a mile they reached the highroad, 
and then began their dash for Murfreesboro. 

They galloped along for a couple of miles 
without speaking a word. At last they drew in 
their horses, and put them on a walk. The moon 
shone high in the heavens ; the country all about 
them looked desolate and deserted. 

“We are out of danger,” cried Carton. His 
spirits had risen gradually as he put distance be- 
tween himself and the Hubbard farm. 

“Look ! ” said George. He pointed to a spot 
upon the road about a quarter of a mile in front 
of them. Then they saw, riding slowly towards 
them, two horsemen in military uniform. 


^53 


Home Again 

“ What shall we do ? ’’ asked George. 

“ Let’s gallop past them,” said the Captain. 
“ e’ll take no more risks ! Have you got your 
revolver ? ” 

By way of answer George took his pistol from 
under his shirt and showed it to Carton. The 
latter, following his example, pulled out his own 
revolver from a similar receptacle, and flourished 
it in the moonlight. They were coming nearer 
to the horsemen. 

“ Eun right by them ! ” commanded Carton. 
“It’s now or never — Murfreesboro to-morrow 
morning, or not at all.” 

They put their horses once more into a gallop, 
and were soon upon the two strangers. 

“ Halt ! ” cried one of the mysterious horse- 
men. “ Halt, in the name of the Confederacy ! ” 

“ On, on ! ” shouted Carton. He and George 
attempted to pass the Confederates, for such 
they undoubtedly were, but the latter stopped 
their way in the middle of the road. George 
could see that one was a cavalryman who had 
taken a chicken from their wagon at Spring 
Hill. The man suddenly recognized the two 
spies. 


154 With Thomas in Tennessee 

‘‘ Halloa ! ” he cried. “Just the fellows we’ve 
been looking for ! ” 

“ Get out of our way ! ” shouted Carton. His 
mare, and George’s bay, had come to a sudden 
standstill. 

“Not a bit of it ! ” answered the Confederate. 
He and his companion were both mounted on 
white horses, which looked like weird ghosts 
in the moonlight. 

But Carton did not wait to see or hear more. 
“ Out of my way ! ” he shouted. And aiming 
his pistol at the man he fired. There was a 
loud report, and the Confederate, wounded in 
the right arm, let go the hold of his horse’s rein. 
The animal, thoroughly frightened, started to 
run and would have bolted with his rider had 
not the other Confederate come to the assistance 
of his fellow and seized the horse by the bridle. 

In the confusion Carton and George galloped 
past them and were soon out of harm’s way. 

“ Are they following us?” asked the Captain, 
after they had traversed half a mile or more. 

George looked behind him. A bend in the 
road hid the two enemies from sight, but there 
was no sign that they were pursuing. 


Home Again 1 

“ Now for it,’’ said Carton. “ On to camp, 
and hurrah for Kosecrans and Thomas I ” 

On they sped. Past farmhouses, negro cabins 
and hamlets they ran, with here and there a 
space of breathing time for the faithful mare 
and the energetic bay, until the first streaks of 
dawn began to appear above the eastern horizon. 

Some hours later the two fugitives, who were 
fugitives no longer, were standing before Gen- 
erals Eosecrans and Thomas in the same room in 
which all four characters were first introduced 
to us in the first chapter of this story. 

General Kosecrans was shaking hands with 
Carton. “ You have brought me most valua- 
ble information about the camp at Spring Hill,” 
he said enthusiastically, ‘‘ and I can never thank 
you and your friend here, George Knight, enough 
for what you have done. I shall recommend 
you. Captain, for a promotion to a Lieutenant- 
Colonelcy.” 

“ And I,” exclaimed General Thomas, regard- 
ing George with admiring eyes, “ shall write a 
full account of this boy’s bravery to President 
Lincoln and the Secretary of War. I am proud 
that the lad is a member of my staff.” 


156 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Thus it came about that Captain Carton soon 
became the Lieutenant-Colonel of an Indiana 
regiment of volunteers and George Knight was 
brevetted a first Lieutenant in the army for 
“Meritorious services,” by special appointment 
of Abraham Lincoln. 

As Hiram Hubbard and his son Joshua are not 
to appear in this story again it may be well to 
describe their future careers. Joshua, who was 
released from his uncomfortable position in front 
of the barn, several hours after the departure of 
the spies, by the opportune aid of his father, is 
now a prosperous merchant in Nashville. He 
has become a warm adherent of the Union, and 
looks back at his adventure with the two men 
from the Murfreesboro camp with amusement 
rather than anger. Hiram Hubbard has been 
dead for more than twenty years. During the 
Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia, in 1876, 
George Knight, then a grown man, met the old 
fanner, and it was his privilege to do more than 
one kindness for his “Yankee” friend. Indeed, 
we are not violating a secret if we say that Hiram 
Hubbard, during the two months he spent in the 
Quaker City at that time, was the guest, at a 


^57 


Home Again 

well-known hotel, of George Knight. “ I like 
Philadelphia,” said Hiram ; “ it’s so near New 
England.” 


CHAPTER VI 

“guerrillas” at short range 

About two weeks after the occurrences nar- 
rated in the last chapter George Knight might 
have been found hard at work in the office at 
General Thomas’s headquarters. He was copying 
a number of letters and leaning over a desk as if 
his life depended upon the speedy execution of 
the task. 

At last he lifted up his head, with a sigh of re- 
lief. “ That’s done,” he said to himself ; “ now 
to my other work.” 

Here the door opened and General Thomas en- 
tered the room. His stern, thoughtful face re- 
laxed into a smile as he looked at the boy. 
“ George, you have been at that desk since nine 
o’clock this morning, and it’s now two o’clock. 
Haven’t you had any dinner ? ” 

“ Yes, General,” answered the boy ; “ an or- 
derly brought me something to eat an hour ago.” 

158 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range 159 

“Aren’t you through work yet?” asked the 
General. 

“Ko; I must copy out the minutes of that 
Robinson court-martial.” 

“ Oh, let that go until to-morrow. Too much 
work makes Jack a dull boy. Go out of the 
house for a while and get some fresh air.” 

The lad rose from his desk with alacrity. He 
was dressed in the new uniform of a first lieuten- 
ant, which he had put on that day for the first 
time, and he had never presented a better figure, 
or looked handsomer. He had recovered entirely 
from his attack of ague, thanks to judicious doses 
of quinine, and now seemed the picture of health. 

“ Yery well, General,” he said ; “I can’t resist 
those orders.” 

Thomas laughed. “ That’s right,” he answered^ 
“ A true soldier always obeys orders.” 

George left the office, put on a new blue over- 
coat which was hanging up in the hallway of the 
house, and was soon out in the open air. It was, 
in truth, a day in which one should be out rather 
than within doors. The sun was shining brightly ; 
the air was bracing, and everything breathed of 
energy. The little town, swarming with soldiers. 


i6o With Thomas in Tennessee 

the fortifications encircling it, and the several 
tented camps in the vicinity, made the scene one 
not easily to be forgotten. 

George turned a corner in order to get in the 
principal street of the town, and in doing so ran 
directly into the arms of an advancing private. 
The man and the boy drew awa}^ looked at each 
other, and then each burst into laughter. 

“And it’s you?” said George. “You’re just 
the man I want to see.” 

The private was a tall, jolW-faced fellow who 
looked as if he enjoyed the world, whether in 
peace or war. He was carrjdng in one hand a 
pair of skates, and in the other a long stick. 

“Well, master Lef tenant, I see you have on 
my new overcoat,” he cried. 

“ Yes, and your new suit, too,” answered the 
boy, unbuttoning his overcoat and giving the 
soldier a glimpse of the pretty uniform under- 
neath. “ General Thomas says you’re such a good 
fitter that you should keep a tailor shop on Broad- 
way, New York.” 

The man flushed with pleasure. He had for- 
merly worked in a tailor’s shop in Philadelphia, 
while now that he was an enlisted soldier he was 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range i6i 

allowed, on rare occasions, to make a uniform for 
an officer who happened to be in a hurry for the 
clothes. 

“ Those togs do look well, even if I do say it, 
as I shouldn’t,^’ he said, “ and you look like a gen- 
eral in them yourself.” 

George was rather flattered, secretly, by this 
compliment, but he only answered : “ Nonsense ! ” 
Then he added ; “ What are you doing with those 
skates ? ” 

“ IVe been skating over at a big pond in Mar- 
pie’s woods. Three of us got a morning’s leave.” 

“ And where’s that ? ” 

“ J ust a mile east of the town.” And the sol- 
dier described just whei’e the woods were situated. 

Skating ! The very thought of it made the 
youthful blood tingle in George’s veins. How 
he had loved the sport up in Ohio. And to think 
that he had never been on the ice since he entered 
the army. He had the whole afternoon free, too. 
The General would not expect him back until 
supper time. 

The result of all this thinking was that in an- 
other half hour George had reached Marple’s 
Woods, with the skates borrowed from the 


i 62 With Thomas in Tennessee 

tailor-soldier. For another half hour thereafter 
he enjoyed himself by skimming along the ice, 
making figures and letters, waltzing, and cutting 
all sorts of athletic capers. 

“ I haven’t had such fun in a year,” he gasped 
at length, when he was thoroughly tired out. 
He went to the edge of the pond, sat down, and 
unstrapped the skates from his shoes. 

“Well, my buck, I reckon you like skating.” 

George, startled at the sound of an unexpected 
voice, looked up hastily. Standing on the op- 
posite bank of the pond, at the edge of the wood 
which encircled the ice, was a wiry, lithe-looking 
man of middle age, whose distinguishing marks 
included a long gray goatee, a pale complexion, 
and a nose that resembled the beak of an Ameri- 
can eagle. He was dressed in rough civilian’s 
clothes, but there were pistols at his belt, and 
upon his head was a cap of Confederate gray. 
The boy knew instinctively that he was facing 
an enemy. He dropped his skates, rose to his 
feet, and felt for his revolver under his half- 
opened overcoat. 

“ Drop that ! ” cried the newcomer, taking a 
pistol from his own belt and leveling it at 



“ I’ve Got a Mortgage on Pistol Practice Around Here ” 




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“ Guerrillas ” at Short Range 1 63 

George, as he advanced across the ice towards 
the lad. “ IVe got a mortgage on pistol practice 
around here.” 

Realizing that prudence was the better part of 
valor, under the circumstances, George wisely 
let his hand fall from his belt. “ What do you 
want with me?” he demanded. 

By this time the man was within five feet of 
George. Here he halted. “ What do I want 
with you?” he repeated, in a mocking tone. 
The boy now saw that the man had a cast in his 
left eye, and that his general expression was sar- 
castic and malevolent in the extreme. “ I’d very 
much like to know who you are,” he added, in a 
voice half plausible, half threatening. 

“I’m an aide on the staff of Gen. George H. 
Thomas, of the Army of the Cumberland,” cried 
George, not without a thrill of pardonable pride, 
“ and I’ll have you understand that I’m almost 
within call of men on our fortifications, and so 
you had better keep a civil tongue in your 
head.” 

Almost within call of your men,” said the 
man, still with that provokingly mocking air. 
“There’s the point. You’re almost call. 


164 With Thomas in Tennessee 

but still not within call. So you are perfectly 
helpless I D’ye see the point, my infant ? ” 

George fairly “ gnashed his teeth,” as the old- 
fashioned novelist would say, in “ impotent rage.” 
Was there ever anything so provoking? Per- 
haps, if he had had time to analyze his feelings, 
he would have confessed that the expression “ my 
infant ” grated more upon him than anything 
else. He had gone through so many adventures, 
and seen so much of the world, for one of his 
few years, that he had come to look upon him- 
self, not unnaturally, as a full-grown man. 

The stranger went on : “ As you say you’re 

an aide on the staff of General Thomas, I think 
you are just the sort of fellow we’re looking for.” 
He whistled three times, in a tone more loud 
than melodious. Before a minute had elapsed 
there bounded upon the pond, five other men, all 
roughly clad, without uniforms, but well-armed 
with pistols. Two of the men carried muskets 
in addition ; all had hard, determined faces, and 
suggested free-booters rather than soldiers, either 
Union or Confederate. They seemed suddenly 
to appear from the woods, like spirits, and as 
they surrounded the man who had thus signaled 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range 165 

to them the scene they presented was uncanny in 
the extreme. 

“ Here’s a find,” explained the whistler, quietly, 
much as if he were exhibiting a prize pig at a 
country show. “He’s an aide to Gen. George 
Thomas.” 

“ Good for you, Dave,” cried a fat man with a 
large waist. “ This is just the kind o’ find we 
want.” 

George saw, only too well, that he had run 
into a gang of men who, for some mysterious 
reason, intended to detain him. Without wait- 
ing for any further deliberation he turned his 
face towards Murfreesboro, and started to run 
through the woods. 

There was a sharp report. A shot sped by 
George’s left ear, almost touching it. Still the 
boy ran. He was desperate ; his one idea was to 
get to a Union outpost, a quarter of a mile away. 
But there came one, two, three more reports. 
Two bullets passed several inches over his head ; 
the third buried itself in his right leg, just 
above the knee. 

George kept on for a few seconds. He knew 
that he had been wounded, but he saw the edge 


i66 With Thomas in Tennessee 

of the woods in front of him ; soon, if he did 
not flinch, he would be able to reach the out- 
post. 

But alas I A numbness began to creep over 
his leg, and then came a sudden faintness from 
loss of blood. In another minute he was lying 
on the ground, between the trees, and his cap- 
tors were standing over him. 

‘‘ That was my shot that brought you down, 
sonny,” said the fat man, with an evident tinge 
of pride. “ I aimed for your leg — and I pinched 
you just in the right place.” 

“ You will all suffer for this ! ” cried George, 
who resolved to put as bold a front as he could 
on the affair, in spite of his disabled leg. 

“ Oh, will we, sonny ? ” asked Dave, the 
man who had first discovered the boy. “We’ll 
see about that.” 

“You are a brave lot of men,” said the lad 
angrily. “All of you after me. You deserve 
medals — leather medals ! ” 

“Here, no impudence, you young cub,” com- 
manded the fat man. “ I’ll tame your spirit be- 
fore we get through with you.” He turned to 
his companions, as he added: “Come, let’s be 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range 167 

off with this boy. We are too near the outposts. 
Two of you pick him up.” 

Dave and one of the other men contrived 
to lift up George in such a way that the boy’s 
wounded leg was not unnecessarily disturbed. 
Then the whole party retraced their steps 
through the woods until they came out at the 
other end, to the eastwards. There, at one side 
of an abandoned, ramshackle negro shanty, were 
tethered six bony but fleet-looking horses. 

“ Put the boy on your horse, Dave,” ordered 
the fat man, who was unmistakably the person 
in authority. “We’ll do something for his leg 
when we get him to the house.” 

“When they get me to the house,” thought 
George. “ What house ? ” And he wondered 
anew what manner of men were these that 
seemed to be neither of the Northern nor South- 
ern army. Two of the men looked like South- 
erners, but the others, including Dave and 
the fat man, rather suggested Westerners. 

Dave hoisted the wounded lad on his horse, 
with the aid of a companion, and then vaulted 
on to the saddle himself, in such a way that 
George was directly in front of him. 


i68 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ He ought to be searched,” said the fat man. 
He walked forward and drew from George’s belt 
his much-prized revolver. 

“ That’s a nice new suit of clothes you’ve got 
on, sonny,” he added, gazing in admiring fashion 
at the Union uniform which revealed itself from 
under the unbuttoned overcoat. ‘‘ I’m sorry it’s 
too small for me ; I’d like to get into it my- 
self.” 

George felt tempted to say something to his 
captor on the subject of stealing, but he was 
wise enough to hold his tongue. 

Within several minutes the men were all riding 
away from the cabin. They cut through several 
fields, until they struck a lonely-looking lane, 
which they proceeded to follow in an easterly 
direction. Along this they jogged, at a brisk 
pace, for several miles until they reached some 
dense woods. George began to suffer intensely 
from his leg ; the numbness, which had disap- 
peared, was succeeded by a throbbing, feverish 
pain. The flow of blood had stopped. 

The cavalcade now skirted along the woods for 
several hundred yards until they reached a nar- 
row bridle-path. Here they put their horses into 


“ Guerrillas ” at Short Range 169 

single file, and began a walk along the path 
through the cottonwood trees. Save for the 
sound of the hoofs upon the muddy ground 
there was dead silence ; no one spoke a word ; 
the fat man led the party with a stolid expres- 
sion upon his large face. 

“ What can they be going to do with me ? ” 
thought George, between his paroxysms of pain. 
But he knew that there would be no answer to 
his question, even if he asked it audibly, until 
they reached their destination, whatever that 
might be. 

In about ten minutes they came to the end of 
the cottonwood forest and emerged into an open 
plain. Across this plain the men galloped their 
horses, and finally reached another wood, 
wherein cedar trees were so densely surrounded 
by underbrush of every description, and clogged 
by grape-vines, that the place seemed absolutely 
impossible of access. But here, too, was a path 
into which the mysterious horsemen plunged. 
In about five minutes they reached a small clear- 
ing, which was almost altogether taken up by a 
very old brick house that must have been built 
long ago, when this part of the country was 


170 With Thomas in Tennessee 

practically a wilderness. The structure was of 
two stories, with an attic, and the large doorway 
was flanked on either side by two windows. 
The exterior bore unmistakable signs of decay, 
but it was evident that in its day the house had 
been the abode of people of consequence — per- 
haps before the woods surrounding it became as 
wild and tangled as they now appeared. 

When they reached the front door Dave 
dismounted and lifted George from the 
horse. 

“ Can you stand ? ” asked Dave gruffly. 

By way of answer the boy hobbled painfully 
up the three steps that led to the door, and 
waited at the threshold. Dave turned his horse 
over to the fat man and said : “ Go on to the 
stable. I’ll look after the prisoner.” The others 
cantered to the back of the house, where the 
stable was evidently situated, and soon appeared 
again on foot. 

By this time a huge negress, of sullen aspect, 
had opened the door. The party entered the 
house, and George, who was assisted by Dave, 
found himself in a wide hallway, partially pan- 
eled in wood, that might once have been covered 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range 171 

Avith white paint but which now showed onl}^ a 
few traces of the latter. 

“ Get us some supper, Chloe,” groAvled the fat 
man, speaking to the negress pretty much as he 
might have spoken to his cattle. 

Chloe made no answer, save by a surly nod of 
her ebony head, but waddled into a room in the 
rear of the house, probably the kitchen. 

“ That nigger’s got a sweet temper,” snarled 
one of the men. 

“ Good cooks always have,” laughed Dave. 
It was not a pleasant laugh to hear, by the 
way. 

All the men excepting the fat man filed into a 
front room on the left of the hallway. George 
could see that it Avas poorly furnished with a 
sofa and some chairs, and a rag carpet, but that 
a bright AA’’ood-fire Avas burning on the old-fash- 
ioned hearth. 

“ Come up-stairs with me,” said the fat 
man. 

George saw that he was defenseless, for the 
present at least, and so made no objection. He 
started to walk up the wide stairs at the back of 
the hallway, but his captor suddenly took the 


172 With Thomas in Tennessee 

boy up in his arms and thus carried him to the 
second floor, and thence to a front room on the 
left. 

‘‘ You couldn’t walk up-stairs with that game 
leg of yours,” explained the fat man in a tone 
that had suddenly changed so that it almost ap- 
proached kindliness. As he spoke he put George 
down upon a bed, and then, walking over to a 
table near the window, he lighted a kerosene 
lamp. It was now beginning to get dark. 

George saw that he was in an uncarpeted 
room, with dingy walls, the furniture comprising 
the bed upon which he sat, a common bureau, 
a table, a washstand, and one lonely chair. The 
walls were bare, save for an old print represent- 
ing “ Franklin at the Court of France.” At one 
end of the room was an open fireplace, and near 
it a pile of wood. 

It’s cold here,” the fat man said. He placed 
some logs on the andirons of the hearth, and 
soon had a bright fire burning, through the judi- 
cious use of matches and paper. 

‘‘Would you mind telling me, my dear sir,” 
asked George, with a sarcastic inflection of the 
voice, “ why I have been brought here ? You 


“ Guerrillas ” at Short Range 1 73 

seem to attach remarkable importance to a 
young lieutenant.” 

The fat man came over to the bedside, and 
looked searcliingly at his captive. George noted 
that his face was bloated, as if with past dissipa- 
tions, and that it would have been handsome 
were it not for its unnatural heaviness of expres- 
sion. His features were regular, but his mouth, 
free of any moustache, gave unmistakable signs 
of weakness of disposition. It was the mouth of 
one who might readily take to wrong courses 
more from lack of character than from any crim- 
inal intent. 

“ You’re a plucky boy,” he said at last. “ I 
see you are not to be frightened.” 

“ That is not answering my question,” replied 
George. 

“ To begin with,” continued the fat man, “ I 
have brought you to this room so that I can 
probe for the bullet in your leg, and afterwards 
dress your wound. After that operation is over 
I may satisfy your curiosity still further.” 

You probe for the ball ?” cried George. 

'‘‘Yes, don’t worry; I’m no quack. I was a 
physician out in Iowa ten years ago, and if 


174 With Thomas in Tennessee 

I hadn’t gotten into a scrape out there, pre- 
scribed the wrong medicine for a man when 
I was under the influence — never mind — I would 
be there yet.” 

There was something so refreshingly and 
peculiarly frank about the fellow’s admission that 
George could not help laughing, despite the un- 
certainty of his own fate and the character of his 
surroundings. 

“ I hope you are sober now,” he remarked. 

“Kever fear,” answered the fat man. He 
walked to the bureau, and drew from a drawer a 
case of surgical instruments. “ I am going to 
hurt you a little,” he went on, “ but I can 
see that you are brave enough to stand 
pain.” 

“ Fire away ! ” commanded George. There- 
upon the ex-physician did “ fire away,” with the 
result that he had soon extracted the bullet and 
dressed the wound, which proved to be anything 
but dangerous. The pain, too, soon ceased. 

‘‘You stood that like a hero,” said the fat 
man, as he replaced the surgical instruments in 
the bureau. 

“ I wish you would pay me fewer compliments 


^‘Guerrillas” at Short Range 175 

and give me more information,” rejoined George, 
with some asperity. He burned to know, very 
naturally, why he had been kidnapped and 
brought to this gloomy mansion. 

“ If I had a son, I’d like to have one just like 
you,” said the man, in evident admiration. 
“ You certainly have pluck. Well, I don’t mind 
enlightening you a little bit, for there’s no use in 
deceiving you. But before I do, I’m going 
down-stairs for supper. You lie quietly on the 
bed, and Chloe will bring yours up to you.” 

The next minute the fat man had departed 
down-stairs. Before he left the room, he said, 
eyeing George very searchingly : “You are not in 
any condition to escape with your bad leg. But 
I feel it my duty to warn you, my boy, that if 
you make any attempt to get out of this house 
my men will shoot you down like a dog.” 

“ All right,” replied George. He felt very 
weak; he had no intention of attempting to 
escape until his wound had healed. Then, — 
but that would be another matter. 

After the fat man had gone, George tossed 
upon the bed, and thought of General Thomas, 
and all the friends he had left behind him in the 


176 With Thomas in Tennessee 

camp at Murfreesboro. Was the General al- 
ready wondering why he had not returned to 
headquarters ? What would the staff think 
when morning came and he had not appeared ? 
As these ideas were surging through his brain 
the negress knocked at the door, and came 
shuffling into the room without waiting for the 
customary “ come in ” which George did not 
have time to say. She bore in her black hands a 
tray with a spoon, a knife, a bowl of soup, a 
plate of bread and butter, and a cup of steaming 
coffee. The boy’s spirits rose at the sight. He 
was beginning to feel ravenous. 

Chloe placed the tray on the bed ; George be- 
gan to devour the supper with avidity. 

The face of the negress wore a new expression 
as she looked at the lad ; there was something so 
sympathetic and human in her eyes, and her 
mouth relaxed into so great a smile, that it was 
hard to identify her as the same woman who had 
received the party at the front door. 

“ D’ye think ye’ll be gwine wantin’ any more 
supper, honey ? ” she asked. “ ’Cause I’ll get ye 
more, if ye want it.” 

“ Ho, thank you,” said George, as he finished 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range 177 

the cup of coffee, which was excellent, and 
turned his attention to the bowl of fragrant 
soup. “ You have brought me a feast here that’s 
good enough for a king. That coffee was the 
best I have ever tasted.” 

Chloe showed her white teeth in delight ; her 
dusky visage gleamed with pride. “ Old Chloe 
alius did know how to cook coffee,” she an- 
swered. “ There’s no one in all the South as can 
make coffee an’ hot cakes better’n old Chloe 
can.” 

“ And this soup is grand ! ” exclaimed George. 
The soup was, undoubtedly, admirably con- 
cocted. But it was not merely his appreciation 
of it that made the boy speak thus. It had sud- 
denly come over him that if he flattered the 
negress he might be able to extract from her 
some valuable information as to the persons who 
had captured him. 

“ Try de bread,” said Chloe, very much 
pleased. “ It ain’t many niggers, honey, as can 
make good white bread like mine.” 

The captive ate a piece of the bread, which he 
well plastered with butter. “ That bread is the 
best I ever tasted,” said George. The statement 


178 With Thomas in Tennessee 

might be a slight exaggeration, but he was de- 
termined to be flattering. “ Even in the North 
we don’t get bread like this very often.” 

“ I knowed ye was a Northerner, deary, from 
yere blue clothes,” cried Chloe. “ Tell me, did 
yer ever see President Lincoln ? ” 

“ I saw him once, Chloe, and I shall never for- 
get his kind, ugly face. He’s a great friend of 
the colored race.” 

“ Glory, glory, hallelujah ! ” ejaculated Chloe. 
“ To think as you seed Massa Lincoln ! Glory ! ” 
She beat her hands upon her capacious chest, and 
regarded George as if he were a hero of 
heroes. 

“ Now is my time,” thought the boy. And he 
said : Chloe, what are you doing here, keeping 
house for these vagabonds ? ” 

“ Lawd a mercy,” she replied, as she showed 
the whites of her eyes, “ and does you think I 
wants to flutter roun’ these yere thieves ? But 
they pays me extra well — and I’ve relations to 
support.” 

“ Then they are thieves ? ” went on George. 
“ I thought they might be Confederate guerrillas.” 

‘‘ Confederates ? ” said the woman. “ Con- 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range 179 

federates is honest. These are robbers — plain 
robbers ! ” 

George now began, cautiously and gradually, 
to draw her out. She revealed some interesting, 
not to saying exciting, facts. The six men down- 
stairs, headed by the fat man, whose name was 
Kearfoot, had been banded together since the 
opening of the Civil War, and for the past six 
months they had made their headquarters in this 
decaying house, once the home of a wealthy 
Tennessee pioneer. They were adventurers from 
different parts of the United States, while it ap- 
peared that Kearfoot, according to common re- 
port, had once been a prosperous physician in 
Iowa, but had taken to drinking, and lost all his 
practice. The men were nothing more or less 
than desperadoes who, taking advantage of the 
confusion caused by the war, roamed through 
parts of Tennessee robbing farmers, “holding 
up ’’ travelers on the road, occasionally breaking 
into a village bank or post-office, and generally 
securing as much money as six utterly unscrupu- 
lous but clever men might. During the past 
month, as Chloe explained, they had been in 
rather hard luck, and had been hovering on the 


i8o With Thomas in Tennessee 


outskirts of the Federal and Confederate armies, 
in the vain hope of surprising parties who might 
be conveying money to either camp. No money, 
however, had come their way, and the men Avere 
becoming desperate. 

“An’ now, honey, they’ve gwine an’ stolen 
you ! ” moaned Chloe. 

“ What can they want Avith me ? ” asked 
George. “ I’ve been trying to figure that 
out ever since I got into this melancholy 
house.” 

“ I doan know no Avise, massa,” said the ne- 
gress. “ It passes all my understandin’. But I 
must be movin’, honey. The men have eaten 
supper by this time, and they’ll be expectin’ me 
to clear off.” She smiled through her Avhite 
teeth and crept out of the room, taking the 
tray and emptied dishes, Avith the air of a con- 
spirator in grand opera. 

“ I certainly am in a pleasant hole,” soliloquized 
George. “ In the hands of a parcel of unscrupu- 
lous rogues. I Avonder what General Thomas 
thinks of my disappearance ? He Avill be getting 
worried by this time.” 

The door of the bedroom opened. The fat 


“Guerrillas” at Short Range i8i 

man, otherwise Kearfoot, entered and carefully 
closed tTie door after him. 

How is the invalid now ? ’’ he asked, in a 
professional manner that indicated the physician 
rather than the desperado. 

“ I’m getting along very well,” replied George. 
“ But I’m still waiting to find out why I have 
been brought here.” 

Kearfoot seated himself upon the one solitary 
chair, which he drew near the bed. “ I’ll try 
to satisfy your youthful curiosity,” he said, with 
the faintest kind of a sneer. “We are a de- 
termined set of men,” he added, “ and have no 
false sentiment.” 

“ I can see that,” returned George dryly. “ Ko 
sentiment — and no principles.” 

“ Don’t be too smart, my young friend,” said 
Kearfoot. He was frowning unpleasantly. 
“Perhaps, as you say so politely, we have no 
principles. But the world has never treated us 
fairly; therefore, why should we bother as to 
how we treat the world ? We propose to get all 
we can out of the world, and the people in it.” 

“ Go on,” urged the bo 3 ^ “ I’m listening.” 

“We captured you to-day just for the fun of 


i 82 With Thomas in Tennessee 


the thing, and when we learned, from yourself, 
that you were an aide on General Thomas’s staff 
we concluded that you were a very valuable 
prisoner.” 

“ Why valuable ? ” 

“ Because we may be able to get a fine ransom 
for you ! ” 

George sprang up in bed. “ A ransom ? ” he 
cried. “ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Don’t you understand plain English ? ” asked 
the fat man. ‘‘I said a ransom. That means 
that I propose to put myself in communication 
with General Thomas, tell him that you are held 
a prisoner, and that if he cares enough for you 
to pay us ten thousand dollars in gold he can 
have you back again ! ” 

If General Thomas finds out that you have 
me here he’ll send enough troops to clean you 
all out of the house, and seize you into the 
bargain,” said George, in considerable excite- 
ment. 

“But there comes the point of the whole 
thing, master — what’s your name ? ” 

“ My name is George Knight.” 

“Well, there comes the point of the whole 


“ Guerrillas ” at Short Range 183 


thing, Master George Knight. General Thomas 
will never know where we have our head- 
quarters ; therefore he cannot send any troops 
here. He will receive word telling him, if he 
wants to ransom you, to send one man — only one 
man, mark you — to a certain place. And that 
place will not be within five miles of here. And 
if that man brings the money, and you are 
delivered up to him, we can afford to leave this 
house altogether. So you see that even if you 
would give our hiding-place away after you got 
back to camp the birds would be fiown. Twenty 
thousand Union soldiers could not catch them.” 

“ That’s a very pretty plan, but how do you 
know that it will work? Suppose instead of 
sending one man to ‘ a certain place,’ as you call 
it, Thomas sends a whole regiment and captures 
you all ? ” 

Kearfoot laughed contemptuously. “We are 
not children,” he said. “We would be posted 
in such a way that if Thomas attempted any 
trick of that kind we should know it in time, 
and take to the woods.” 

George sank back on the bed in dismay. “ I’m 
not worth ten thousand dollars, even if the Gen- 


184 With Thomas in Tennessee 

eral had it to give,’’ he said. “ Supposing that 
he refuses the ransom ? What then ? ” 

“ What then ? ” repeated Kearfoot, surveying 
the boy with a sardonic smile. Why, then I 
will play another card, quite as good, if not 
better. I will sell you to the Confederates ! ” 

“ Sell me to the Confederates ? ” 

“Exactly! I have a friend in the Union 
camp, and I have heard of your exploit with a 
certain Captain or Colonel Carton. It was a 
young aide of Thomas named George Knight. 
You went into Yan Dorn’s headquarters as a 
spy, and he should be glad to buy you back, if 
only to make an example by hanging you ! ” 
George was appalled at the cool brutality of 
the man. Only a little while before Kearfoot 
had dressed his wounded leg with the tenderness 
of a woman, and now he was coolly proposing, 
should the scheme for ransom not work, to turn 
him over, for a price, to be hanged by the Con- 
federates for a spy. 

“ I thought a while ago you had some human- 
ity,” said George, echoing this thought, “ when 
you attended to my wound.” 

Kearfoot indulged in a nasty chuckle. “ If I 


“ Guerrillas ” at Short Range 185 

had a valuable horse which I wished to sell, and 
he got wounded, I^d attend to his hurt, wouldn’t 
I ? ” he asked. “ You are a valuable asset, and I 
didn’t propose to let you die of gangrene or 
blood poisoning.” 

“ I don’t believe the Confederates would bar- 
ter with you to get me. They are honorable 
enemies.” 

The eyes of the fat man regarded the boy 
malevolently. “Let me give you a piece of 
advice, my youngster,” he said, speaking very 
slowly and distinctly, as if he wanted to impress 
every syllable upon George’s brain. “ You had 
better do all in your power to induce General 
Thomas, in a letter I want you to write to him, 
to ransom you, for, by Bacchus, if you don’t, and 
the Confederates are too squeamish to buy you. 
I’ll turn you over to them for nothing. You can 
persuade Thomas, if you will. If you won’t — 
well — ^you know the fate of a spy ! ” 


CHAPTER YII 

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT 

There Avas dead silence in the room for several 
minutes, as the adversaries regarded each other 
in the dim light. Each was, indeed, afraid of 
the other. George saAv that this Kearfoot was as 
clever as he Avas unscrupulous. Kearfoot rec- 
ognized that he was dealing with an uncom- 
monly bright boy, who had already outAvitted 
the Confederates and might possibly outwit him. 

At last the captor broke the spell. “ You’re a 
smart chap,” he said, in an insinuating, persua- 
siA^e voice, ‘‘ and you must therefore want to be 
back in the Federal camp rather than go as a 
present to Yan Dorn. As for that ransom 
money, Avhy what is ten thousand dollars to the 
United States government? It has money to 
burn.” 

He Avent to the bureau, opened it, and re- 
turned with a sheet of note paper and a pencil. 
Then he picked up, from the bottom of the bed, 

i86 


Plot and Counterplot 187 

George’s military cap. “ This will make a good 
writing-desk for you,” he explained nonchalantly. 
He handed the cap and the writing material to 
the boy. “How be a sensible fellow,” he con- 
tinued, “and write the following letter, won’t 
you ? ” 

George sat up in bed very straight, put the cap 
on his well leg, placed the paper on the cap, and 
quite looked, with the pencil in his hand, as if he 
were ready to write a whole book. 

“Shall I dictate to you?” asked Kearfoot, 
pleased and at the same time rather surprised at 
the sudden acquiescence of the boy. 

“Go on,” answered George, whose face be- 
trayed no emotion whatever. 

Kearfoot began as follows, while George’s 
pencil rattled over the paper : 

“ General Thomas^ 

“ In canup at Murfreesboro. 

“ My dear General, 

“ I am sorry to inform you that I have 
been captured by a band of non-partisan guer- 
rillas ” 

“ ^ Hon-partisan guerrillas ’ is certainly a good 


l88 With Thomas in Tennessee 


expression,” interrupted George, \vdio saw the 
humor in giving a gang of outlaws so elegant a 
title. 

“ Yery elegant, is it not ? ” replied the fat man 
dryly. “It sounds so much better than — than 
some other expressions uncharitable people might 
use. But let us go on with the letter : 

“ I am sorry to inform you that I have been 
captured by a band of non-partisan guerrillas 
who have taken me to a hiding place which is so 
well concealed that the whole Union army could 
not find it. The gentlemen who have me in 
charge ” 

“ ‘ Gentlemen ’ is also good ! ” noted the 
writer. 

“ The gentlemen who have me in charge 

inform me that they intend to demand a ransom 
of ten thousand dollars 

“Stop,” said Kearfoot. “Wait a minute. I 
think ten thousand dollars is too small a sum to 
name. You’re worth more than that, and we 
should get more. Go on : 

“ inform me that they intend to de- 

mand a ransom of twenty thousand dollars for 
my delivery, safe and sound, into the Union 


Plot and Counterplot 189 

camp. If you do not pay the ransom I am to be 
delivered over to General Van Dorn so that ho 
can hang or shoot me for a spy. You see by this 
that my captors know of my adventure at Spring 
Hill. You must also see that if you do not pay 
the twenty thousand dollars, or get the govern- 
ment to do it, I will be hung by Van Dorn. I 
implore you, dear General, if you care for me, to 
let my captors get the money by all means, for I 
do not want to die. Otherwise my blood will be 
upon your own head. Eemember ! It lies with 
you whether I live or die, and may you do your 
duty to me. 

Ahem ! ’’ said Kearfoot. “ You might add : 

“I do not know what arrangements will be 
made as to communicating with you, but you can 
repose full trust in whoever is the bearer of this 
letter. Let me solemnly w^irn you to deal 
squarely with my captors. Do not attempt to 
capture me from them, and thus avoid paying the 
ransom. If you make any such attempt you 
will only put my life in danger. Pay the ran- 
som. 

“Underline that last sentence — ^^ay the ran- 
som^ ” directed Kearfoot. 


igo With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ I have done it,” said the boy, making the re- 
quired line. 

“ IS’ow sign your name to it.” 

George’s face flushed. “ What ? ” he cried. 
“ Do you think that I’d put my name to such a 
cowardly letter as that ? A letter which whines 
for my life, and makes it look as if I were afraid 
to die ! A letter that no real soldier would ever 
write ! Why, I would far rather be hung twenty 
times over than sign this thing. It might get 
the ransom from General Thomas, but never 
again would he have any feeling for me but con- 
tempt — and a contempt which I would fully de- 
serve.” 

With the last word the angry boy tore the 
note into a hundred bits. 

Kearfoot stalked hastily up and down the 
room. George h^,d expected him to be furious, 
but he seemed, rather, to be more reflective than 
angry. 

“ If you won’t write the kind of note I wanted 
you to,” he said, finally, “ you will simply have 
to take your chances. That letter I dictated 
would have brought twenty thousand dollars — 
nay, fifty or a hundred thousand dollars — from 


Plot and Counterplot iqi 

General Thomas. I’ll bet on that. But, as it is, 
we must do our own work in the affair. I think 
we’ll get the money. If we don’t — well, then 
you must make up your mind to be sent to the 
Confederate camp at Spring Hill.” 

“ I’ll take the risk,” answered George, grimly 
but valiantly. “ I’ll do anything but write cry- 
ing, cowardly letters to my General.” 

“ Can’t say that I blame you,” continued the 
fat man. He had lost his sneering tone ; it 
almost seemed as if he admired the stand which 
the boy had taken. “ Perhaps that letter I dic- 
tated was too strong — or rather too crawling — 
but let it pass. It’s your risk, not mine.” 

“ If General Thomas wishes to ransom me of 
his own accord,” said George, “ I have, natur- 
ally, no objection. But as for begging him — 
Bah ! ” 

“ I’ll leave you for the night,” exclaimed Kear- 
foot, after he had perambulated the floor for 
several more minutes, ‘‘ and I’ll lock the door 
after me — just by way of precaution. You can’t 
get out of the windows — your game leg would 
not let you.” 

As he spoke he moved towards the door ; he 


192 With Thomas in Tennessee 

• 

was gone the next instant. The key grated out- 
side in the lock. 

George sank back upon the bed and began to 
think. If he had taken a purely selfish view of 
the case he would have concluded that the prob- 
abilities were in favor of his being ransomed. 
For he knew, as he could not help knowing, that 
General Thomas was very fond of him, and 
would strain every nerve to get his young aide 
from the clutches of these rascals. Yet the boy 
hated to think that his capture would entail upon 
the government, or upon individual officers, the 
payment on his behalf of twenty thousand dol- 
lars. If the government could not make such an 
expenditure then Thomas might try to raise it by 
individual subscriptions among the officers of the 
Army of the Cumberland. That was a humil- 
iating idea to the lad. He hated to feel that he 
might be put in the position of an object of char- 
ity. Indeed, there came to him a keen sense of 
mortification that he should have fallen into a 
situation by capture where he should put his fel- 
low-countrymen to trouble and expense. 

“ Yet perhaps I am too conceited,” he thought ; 
“ it may be that no one will dream of wasting so 


Plot and Counterplot 193 

much money on a young lieutenant. Why should 
they ? I would have to be much more important 
than I am to be worth twenty thousand dollars, 
or a hundredth part of it, to the United States 
Army.” 

So thinking he became drowsy, and would 
have fallen asleep had it not been for the voices 
of the “ non-partisan guerillas ” on the ground 
floor, which, at times, became raised in con- 
troversy. Once he heard Dave say: “That’s 
my trick, and I ain’t agoing to have you take it 
away from me — d’ye hear ? ” 

There was a heated response, and an oath from 
Dave. Then the voice of Kearfoot, speaking 
with an air of authority intervened. “ Look 
here, you fools,” it said, “ I don’t allow anything 
like fighting amongst us. When thieves fall out 
honest men get their dues. In other words, 
if we quarrel, particularly over such a little thing 
as cards, some one comes in and does us up ! ” 

“ You’re right. Captain,” cried a voice. “ If 
we quarrel, and fight each other dead, like the 
Kilkenny cats, then our young friend up-stairs 
may take to the woods, and escape. Stop your 
fussing, boys, and begin a new hand of poker.” 


194 With Thomas in Tennessee 

There was some demur at first, from the 
growling that George could hear, but finally 
peace seemed to be restored, through the good 
offices of Kearfoot. The game was resumed, 
and the sound of cards being slapped roughly 
upon a table could be detected. But sleep was 
now conquering the prisoner above. He was 
only conscious, at last, of the wood-fire, in 
which he seemed to see the images of General 
Thomas and Kufus Carton. The lamp now 
began to flicker ; in a few minutes it went out. 
The fire, too, was burning low. Darkness was 
hovering over the room. Soon George was well 
in the Land of Hod. He was dreaming that he 
stood in a court room in front of a judge who 
was none other than General Thomas. Before 
the judge stood Kearfoot, in the prisoner’s dock. 
“ Kearfoot,” the General was saying, “ you are 
found guilty, and I hereby convict you to a hun- 
dred years in the guard-house!” Just as the 
prisoner was about to bow low in submission the 
dream changed. George imagined that standing 
over him was Kearfoot, holding a bowie-knife in 
one hand and a huge stick in the other. 

The next instant he awoke with the instinctive 


Plot and Counterplot 195 

feeling that somebody was near him. The room 
was pitch dark, noAV that lamp and fire were 
both out. At first he could see nothing. Then a 
low voice, as if from some mysterious depths, 
asked, “ Is ye awake, honey ? ” 

George started up in bed, rubbed his eyes 
very hard, and found a large black figure bend- 
ing over him. ‘‘ Doan be frightened,” it said ; 
“ it’s only me — old Chloe.” 

“My but you gave me chills and fever for 
a second,” laughed the boy. 

Chloe put a warning hand upon the boy’s arm. 
“Please doan speak so loud,” she whispered; 
“ some of dem brutes o’ men might hear.” 

“ How did you get in here ? ” asked George, 
lowering his tone. “ Kearfoot locked me in 
when he left me.” 

“Yeah, honey, but he leaves de key in the 
doah, outside, and so I have only to turn it sort 
of sneak-like, and I am in de room. My lands, I 
was ’fraid as you would scream when you found 
some un was in de room, and den dat Kearfoot 
would come runnin’ in. But praise be to de 
Lord, dey all sat up late into de night playin’ 
and drinkin’, and dey’ll sleep heavy — dart the 


196 With Thomas in Tennessee 

villains ! Ef dey didn’t pay me sech big wages 
an’ I didn’t have a lazy fam’ly o’ niggers at 
home to support, Chloe would never work for 
’em — no, by jiminy I ” 

“ But what are you coming here for any- 
way ? ” asked the boy, who was very much mys- 
tified at this nocturnal appearance of the 
negress. “ If one of those ruffians had heard you 
coming in they might have killed you.” 

“ I ain’t no man’s fool,” chuckled Chloe quietly. 
“ D’ye think, honey, I’d live in dis den o’ thieves 
without bein’ armed ? I alius carry a razor 
with me, yeah, or a big knife in me busum, and 
I take no nonsense from any of ’em.” 

“ But what do you want ? ” continued G-eorge. 

Why, young massa, I jes’ know dese men are 
plottin’ you some harm and I couldn’t rest till I 
saw you an’ tole ye ef dere’s any way o’ poor 
Aunt Chloe helpin’ you, she’d gwine and do it. 
I took a fancy to yer nice hones’ face de momen’ 
I dun see you.” 

“ You’re a trump, Chloe,” whispered George 
fervently. A lump came into his throat ; there 
was something infinitely touching to him about 
the disinterestedness of this woman who in 


Plot and Counterplot 197 

order to help him had risked her life among the 
desperadoes now asleep. “ I am afraid,” he 
added, ‘‘there’s nothing you can do for me, 
Chloe ; but I thank you just as much as if you 
had a pair of wings and could fly away with me 
to the Union camp.” 

“ Tell me, honey, what de men are gwine to 
do wid you ? ” 

George told the old woman, as briefly as pos- 
sible, exactly what Kearfoot planned. 

“ De black-hearted scoundrels ! ” whispered 
Chloe. “I knew dey was imps o’ Satan, but 
I nebber thinks dey would do as bad as disi 
And oh, sonny, sonny boy, suppose de Fed’ral 
Generel refuse to gib de ranscom ? ” 

“I’m afraid in that case I’ll find myself in 
General Yan Dorn’s camp, and have myself 
court-martialed for a spy.” 

The cook wrung her hands with a quaint dis- 
play of feeling that was at once serious and yet 
comic. “Jerusha!” she moaned, under her 
breath, “ you must nebber take dat risk, honey. 
I wouldn’t mind it so much ef you was a grown 
man — but a boy like you. Ye look jes’ like a 
white boy I used to be a mammy for way down 


198 With Thomas in Tennessee 

in Georgia years ago. It shan’ be — I tell ye, it 
shan’ be ! ’’ 

“But I can’t see yet what I’m going to do 
about it, Chloe ? If I only had some way of get- 
ting word to General Thomas, telling him where 
I was, he might send a troop of cavalry here and 
seize this whole gang. But I haven’t, and the 
only chance for me is by escaping from this house, 
which doesn’t seem very hopeful, on account of 
my wounded leg. I’m afraid, although it’s not 
much of a wound, that I couldn’t run very far 
with it. Besides, I’ll be watched like a hawk.” 

“ Let me go to de camp,” whispered Chloe ex- 
citedly. “ I’ll go now, and not come back till I 
comes wid a spontoon of troops ” — by which she 
doubtless meant a “ platoon.” 

George’s heart bounded at the thought. He 
could already see, in fancy, a regiment of horse- 
men dashing up to this old house, as they sur- 
rounded the outlaws and freed himself amid wild 
cheers. Hardly, however, had this tempting 
prospect burst upon him than there came another 
thought which dashed all his hopes. 

“ It wouldn’t do, Chloe,” he explained, very re- 
luctantly. “ If you disappeared from here these 


Plot and Counterplot 199 

fellows would smell a rat at once. They would 
know that you had gone off for a reason, and, 
suspecting treachery, would probably decamp 
from here, taking me with them.” 

Chloe considered for a minute. Then she said : 
“ But it needn’t be ole Chloe to go. S’posin’ I 
sends some un else ? ” 

‘‘ How on earth can you do that, Chloe ? ” 
asked George. 

The woman’s answer was very much to the 
point. Her family, she explained, consisted of 
two sisters, a daughter, and two sons, both grown 
men. The females took in washing now and 
then, but the sons were constitutionally opposed 
to working, and spent most of their time either 
loafing, hunting rabbits or trapping birds. It 
was now about three o’clock in the morning, and 
Chloe proposed creeping out of the house, going 
to her home, only a mile and a quarter away, 
waking up one of her sons, and ordering him to 
take a message to General Thomas at break of 
day. Then Chloe would steal back again to the 
house, which she would enter long before the 
“ non-partisan guerrillas ” had arisen. The son, 
upon being taken to General Thomas, was to de- 


200 With Thomas in Tennessee 

scribe the plight of the young aide, and offer to 
guide troops back to the house occupied by the 
outlaws. 

“ Ches’peake Maryland kin do it,” added the 
negress. “He’s de good-for-nufiSnest nigger as 
evah lived — he took dat from his daddy — but he’s 
got his mammy’s brains.” 

“ Are you sure he will go ? ” asked the boy. 

“Ef he won’ I’ll give him such a lickin’ he 
won’ forget soon.” 

“ Tell him he will be well paid for it, if he gets 
the troops here,” said George. 

Without more parleying Chloe left the bed and 
crept softly to the door. Here she listened care- 
fully, and when assured that the coast was clear, 
she left the room, gently closed the door, and 
locked it on the outside. As George listened he 
could hear an occasional creaking of boards, as 
the ponderous negress made her way slowly and 
stealthily down the wide staircase. 

But, oh, wretched moment ! Her foot must 
have slipped in the darkness, for there was a 
stumble, and then down the stairs to the ground 
floor went rolling two hundred and more pounds 
of fat. The nature of the noise was unmistak- 


201 


Plot and Counterplot 

able ; poor George gave a groan of disappoint- 
ment and despair. At the very time when things 
began to look hopeful were they to be upset ? 
Were the sleepers in the house to be awakened, 
and their suspicions roused by this fatal misstep ? 

A door in the second story opened ; some one 
ran out in stocking feet and listened. There was 
the sound of striking a match and of lighting a 
candle ; then the person could be heard quickly 
descending the staircase. 

The prisoner grew so excited that he cautiously 
got out of bed and limped to the door. He 
heard the voice of Kearfoot at the bottom of the 
stairs, pronouncing Chloe’s name in great sur- 
prise. It seemed as if the cook were muttering 
something, and as if she groaned once or twice. 

“ Poor thing ! ” thought George. “ Perhaps 
she has hurt herself in her tumble.” 

But he did not wait to hear more, for it was 
plain that Kearfoot was ascending the staircase. 
He hurried back into bed, as quietly as possible. 
Up, up came the footsteps, and finally they 
stopped short at the boy’s door. The key turned, 
and Kearfoot, half-dressed, and holding a lighted 
candle in his hand, entered the room. George 


202 With Thomas in Tennessee 

had just time to close his eyes, and indulge in a 
mild snore. The man crept over to the bed, 
leaned over the boy, and flashed the light in his 
face. 

It went through George’s mind that if he were 
really asleep he should wake up under such a 
searching light. So he turned in the bed, 
stretched out his arms, and gradually opened his 
eyes with the air of one who has been aroused 
from a heavy slumber. 

“ What’s the trouble ? ” he demanded, in a 
sleepy voice. 

‘‘No trouble,” answered Kearfoot. “Only 
Chloe, our nigger, is lying at the bottom of the 
stairs dead drunk. I suppose we’ll have no 
breakfast in the morning.” 

“ Dead drunk ? ” George was puzzled. He 
knew that Chloe had been perfectly sober. Had 
she been injured, and had the fat man mistaken 
a fainting spell for a drunken fit, or was she sim- 
ply playing a part? ’Twas a hard question to 
answer. 

It was evident that Kearfoot had been awak- 
ened by the noise of Chloe falling on the stairs, 
but that he had no suspicions. 


Plot and Counterplot 203 

“ What do you want with me ? ” asked George, 
boldly enough. 

“ Only looked in to see if you were still safe 
and snug here,” growled the man. 

‘‘ You certainly didn’t think I was going to 
walk home with this leg of mine ? ” queried 
George. 

“ iN'o, but you’re a keen lad ; and it’s always 
worth while keeping an eye on such as you.” 

Kearfoot laughed, in a sardonic way, and went 
back to the door. “ Kemember, young man,” he 
said warningly, as he held the candle so that his 
face was plainly in evidence ; “ remember that 
you can’t get away from this house unless we 
take you, and if you try to go in any other way, 
I won’t give a farthing for your life ! ” He left 
the room, turned the key on the outside, and 
evidently went back to his own chamber to 
sleep. 

George was in a perfect fever of anxiety. He 
could not understand the situation. The idea 
that Chloe was in a drunken stupor was prepos- 
terous. She was either feigning or so injured 
that she had become unconscious. “If she is 
really hurt,” he thought, “ I should go down to 


204 With Thomas in Tennessee 

her. Heaven knows, she did all she could to 
help me, and it’s plainly my duty to help her.” 
But then he suddenly bethought him that the 
door was locked from the outside, and that he 
was still a prisoner. 

The boy tossed upon his bed for fifteen min- 
utes. It seemed, at last, as if he heard the front 
door of the house quietly open. But the sound, 
if it were not, indeed, simply his imagination, 
was so faint that he could hardly think he had 
heard aright. Several minutes later there was a 
slight tapping on one of the window panes. 
This tapping was followed by another, and then 
another. Some one must be throwing pebbles 
up from the ground. 

George jumped from the bed, and reached the 
window. He did not open it, fearing to make a 
noise, but he looked out into the darkness. He 
was well rewarded for his peering into the gloom. 
Beneath the window stood the unmistakable fig- 
ure of old Chloe. 

Chloe waved one black hand towards the 
watcher at the window, and then disappeared in 
the direction of the road through the wood. 
The darkness hid her entirely from view. 


Plot and Counterplot 205 

Geoi'ge gave a deep sigh of relief, as he returned 
to his bed. 

“ That drunken stupor was only a blind to de- 
ceive Kearfoot,’’ he thought. His conclusion, as 
it needs hardly be added, was perfectly correct. 
Chloe, in descending the stairs, had missed her 
footing, and when she realized what she had 
done, and that the leader of the outlaws was 
coming out of his room, she hit upon this expe- 
dient to avoid suspicion. For had he thought she 
was prowling around the house when in full pos- 
session of her senses he would have scented dan- 
ger at once. 

“She has gotton off after all,” went on the 
boy to himself, as his head once more rested 
upon the pillow. And then he drifted into a 
pleasant sleep, dreamless and refreshing. In the 
meantime a large black figure was creeping 
through the grim woods, as it stopped here and 
there to listen. Once it muttered : “You shan’t 
be hung, honey, not ef ole Chloe knows, an’ she 
thinks she do.” Then it pushed on into the dark- 
ness. 

It must have been about eight o’clock in the 
morning when George awoke. For a second he 


2o6 With Thomas in Tennessee 


could not recall just where he was as he looked 
around him at the shabby room, and then through 
the windows at the trees hemming in the house. 
Then it flashed upon him where he was im- 
prisoned, and what had occurred within the past 
twenty-four hours. “If Chloe only got through 
all right,” he thought. Suppose that for some 
reason she had not been able to return to this 
house without escaping detection ? It was not a 
pleasant reflection. 

But almost immediately the key was turned, 
and Chloe herself entered the room. She carried 
a bucket of water, a rough towel and a large 
piece of brown soap. 

“ Here’s some washin’ material, young man,” 
she said, in a loud voice, as she placed the 
“ material ” on the floor near the bed. “ I’ll 
bring ye up breakfast as soon as I’ve fed de gen- 
tlemen of de house.” 

George was about to ask her the one great 
question that rose to his lips, but was fortunately 
restrained by a warning glance from the negress, 
who also put one hand upon her capacious mouth. 
Hardly had she made the signal when Kearfoot 


Plot and Counterplot 207 

entered the room. His eyes were bloodshot ; he 
seemed very cross and nervous. 

“ You’re a nice nigger,” he said to Chloe, with 
the accent on the adjective. I found you in a 
sweet condition a few hours ago. It didn’t take 
you long to recover, either.” 

The negress hung her head, in order to signify 
due shame and repentance. George gave the fat 
man a keen look. “ Does he think she was sus- 
piciously quick in recovering ? ” he said to him- 
self. But the fact was that Kearfoot had no 
such suspicion ; he was merely admiring what he 
thought must be the woman’s wonderful recu- 
perative powers. 

‘‘ Come,” he demanded, “ ain’t you going to 
say you were sorry ? ” 

“ I’ll nevah do it no moah,” whined Chloe. 
“ An’ I’ll give you all de bes’ breakfast you evah 
had, to make up fo’ it. Poor ole Chloe nevah 
touch a drop o’ anything agin ’ceptin’ spring 
water.” 

“ See that you don’t,” said Kearfoot, “ and now 
go down and get that breakfast ready, for we 
men have important business on hand.” 

Chloe shuffled out of the room. George was 


2o8 With Thomas in Tennessee 


still utterly in the dark as to the results of her 
visit to her lazy offspring, Chesapeake Maryland. 

“ And how did you sleep, my young friend ? ” 
enquired Kearfoot, in a tone that was meant to 
be propitious. 

“ Pretty well, considering my surroundings,” 
growled the boy. He could not help feeling 
angry because the leader had interrupted his 
tete-d-tete with the cook. ‘‘ What are you going 
to do with me to-day ? ” he asked. 

“ This is my programme,” answered Kearfoot. 
“ Myself and three of m}^ men will try to put 
ourselves in communication with General Thomas 
to-day — if we can do it with safety to ourselves. 
The two other men will remain here in the house 
to keep an eye on you, for though you might 
have a slow time in escaping, on account of your 
leg, yet you might contrive to get word to the 
Federals in some way, and then they would try 
to rescue you without paying that twenty thou- 
sand dollars.” 

Kearfoot’s words suggested so strongly exactly 
what George was trying to do that it was with 
much difficulty the latter could look at his ad- 
versary without changing countenance. 


Plot and Counterplot 2og 

“Well, whatever you do,” said George, with 
an affectation of great weariness, — “ whether you 
ransom me to General Thomas or send me as a 
present to Yan Dorn, I wish you^d be quick 
about it. It will be dreary work for me staying 
shut up in this gloomy house.” He looked 
through the windows as he spoke, and noticed 
that although the sun was shining brightly yet 
the woods surrounding the house shut out much 
of the light and sparkle of the day. 

“ Don’t worry about that,” replied Kearfoot, 
smiling in a cynical way. “We are just as 
anxious to be rid of you as you are to be rid of 
us. When we part, the pleasure will be mutual, 
as the Union and Confederate soldiers will say 
to one another after they have fought each other 
for a couple of years more.” 

So saying he left the room, locking the door 
after him. George thereupon arose, not without 
some difficulty on account of his leg, and pro- 
ceeded to make his morning toilet with the as- 
sistance of the water and brown soap which the 
faithful Chloe had brought him. Since he had 
joined the army it had been his fate to undergo 
a number of privations, but brown soap was 


210 With Thomas in Tennessee 

something new in his experience. ‘‘ Still, it’s 
clean,” he said, “ even if it does smell so nasty,” 
and, contenting himself with that reflection, he 
made good use of this rather strong cleanser. 

Hardly had he completed his ablutions and 
dressed himself ere Chloe returned, bringing 
with her a steaming breakfast consisting of hot 
corn cakes, butter, fried eggs, coffee, and sau- 
sages. She placed her tray upon the bureau, 
and motioned George to help himself. 

“ I can’t eat a thing,” said the boy, ‘‘ until you 
tell me what success you had.” 

Chloe folded her arms and looked very stern. 
“Honey,” she said, almost imperiously, “ye must 
eat everything on dat waiter ’fore I says a thing 
to you. Ain’t poor old Chloe got to think o’ her 
boy’s health ? ” 

The tears came into George’s eyes, unexpect- 
edly and unwanted. There was something so 
kindly and motherly in the tone and look of the 
sable cook that it brought another lump to his 
throat. 

“ All right,” he answered, “ it shall be pleasure 
before business.” So he pulled the solitary chair 
of the room up to the bureau, and, without 


211 


Plot and Counterplot 

another word, proceeded to demolish his break- 
fast, whilst the negress employed her spare time 
by making up the bed. She had served the 
“ non-partisans ’’ with breakfast just before she 
came to the boy. 

When George had finished his meal (and, as 
he had a youthful, healthy appetite, the process 
did not consume over-much time) he rose from 
his chair and confronted Chloe. “ Tell me 
quickly,’’ he said, “ what luck you had ? ” 

“ JSTo luck,” answered the negress. 

“ No luck ? ” echoed the prisoner. What do 
you mean ? ” 

“ I didn’t have no luck, massa, but doan give 
up hope. Ole Chloe’s a lookin’ out fo’ you yet. 
When I got to home early dis mornin’ ef I didn’t 
find as Ches’peake Maryland and de rest o’ de 
fam’]}^, ’ceptin’ my daughter Eosa, as had a gone 
to a black dance five miles off, and wouldn’t be 
back till sunrisin’. So I daresn’t stay there, only 
I tole Eosa as to tell Ches’peake Maryland as he 
was to come here dis mornin’ without lettin’ on 
I’d sent for him. Ef he comes — and ef he don’t 
I’ll spank him, tho’ he be over forty — ef he 
comes, I say, I’ll tell him what he’s to do. 


212 With Thomas in Tennessee 

and then he can make for de Union camp, 
honey ? ” 

“ How will you see him, Chloe ? ” asked 
George. He was bitterly disappointed that the 
negress had not found her son ; already, had he 
fondly imagined Chesapeake Maryland might 
be in the camp at Murfreesboro. 

“I left word,’’ she answered, “as he was to 
creep up behind de barn at de back o’ de house, 
and whistle twice, like a mocking bird. Then 
I’ll gwine out behind de barn, and give de ole 
ramscallian his obstructions.” 

“You think you understand what those ‘ob- 
structions ’ are ? ” asked George. And he went 
over exactly what Chesapeake Maryland was to 
sa 3 ^ to General Thomas, and how the negro was 
to explain that instead of paying one cent’s ran- 
som the simplest way was to send a troop of 
cavalry to the boy’s prison in the woods. 

“ Hallelujah ! ” cried Chloe. “ I know what to 
tell dat ere worthless nigger.” 

“ Hush ! ” whispered the lad. He heard foot- 
steps on the stairway. Chloe flew to the waiter, 
with the empty plates, which she hastily seized. 
As she was about to leave the room there 


Plot and Counterplot 213 

stalked into it the plethoric Kearfoot. He was 
followed by Dave and one of his companions, 
a man with sandy hair and beard who was after- 
wards addressed as “ Charlie.” 

For some reason the leader seemed to be in a 
bad humor. “ Look you, Knight,” he growled ; 
“while I go off with the rest of the party I 
shall leave you here with these two men until I 
come back, and tell you the success of our nego- 
tiations with your General Thomas. And IVe 
instructed them to shoot you on the spot if you 
make any attempt to escape ! ” 

“ Brave man ! ” cried George, sarcastically. 
“ As if I could escape with that shot you put 
into my leg, 3^esterday.” 

“ Don’t be impertinent,” retorted Kearfoot. 
“ If there wasn’t a hope of getting twenty thou- 
sand dollars for you I would be tempted to put a 
few more bullets into you, and punish you for an 
impudent child. But I won’t waste time by 
fighting with you. Here, Dave and Charlie, you 
understand your duty. This boy may go down- 
stairs, if he wants, but he’s not to leave the house 
under any pretext. As for Chloe here, she must 
not leave the house either ; d’ye understand ? ” 


214 With Thomas in Tennessee 

The two men nodded assent. Chloe and 
George interchanged looks of secret dismay. If 
Chloe was not to leave the house, how v/as com- 
munication to be had with Chesapeake Mary- 
land ? 

“ There never was a woman 3^et, white or 
black, who wasn’t a gossip,” went on Kearfoot, 
“ and I don’t want her running home to her fam- 
ily or neighbors and giving things away about 
the boy. She is to stay in this house, and not 
move one step outside until I get home again to- 
night.” 

Chloe had wit enough to pretend to be per- 
fectly indifferent to this edict. But her heart 
sank ; so, too, did the heart of George. All hope 
seemed gone. Neither of the two dared to utter 
a word of protest. 

Kearfoot turned on his heel and moved to- 
wards the door. “ Mind your eye, boy,” he said, 
‘‘ and perhaps you’ll be free before long. You’ve 
no message for General Thomas, eh ? ” He 
looked at George sharply. 

“ Tell the General I’m not worth a dollar’s 
ransom,” said the boy. 

“How modest you are,” sneered Kearfoot. 


215 


Plot and Counterplot 

With that parting shot he walked out of the 
room. He was followed, shortly after, by the 
disconsolate Chloe. She cast one parting look at 
George, which seemed to say : “ I have done my 

best, but I have failed.” 

Dave and Charlie turned, with one ac- 
cord, to their prisoner. You can go down- 
stairs, if you want,” said the former. 

“ I don’t care much where I go,” answered 
George, as he limped out of the bed-chamber, in 
company with the two men, and made his way 
down the staircase. For once in his life he felt 
discouraged, thoroughly and completely. 


CHAPTER YIII 


CHECKMATED 

Several hours later General Thomas could 
have been found, had we chosen to peep into 
his headquarters, sitting by the fire in deepest 
thought. There was an expression of intense 
worriment upon his usually unruffled face. 

“ And still no signs of George,” he was saying 
to himself. “ He has been gone nearly twenty- 
four hours, and the last trace of him was when 
he left the outposts to skate. The neighborhood 
of the pond has been searched, other places out- 
side the fortifications have been scoured by sol- 
diers, but still he doesn’t come. Either he has 
met with accident, or else he has fallen into the 
hands of some Confederates.” 

He rose from his chair and began impatiently 
to pace the room. He had never appreciated 
until now how strongly attached to his young 
aide he had become. As he racked his brain for 
some plausible explanation of the boy’s absence, 
an orderly entered the room and saluted. 

316 


Checkmated 


217 

Have you any news of Knight ? ” cried 
Thomas, half eagerly, half fearfully. He feared 
that he might yet see George’s dead body being 
brought into camp. 

“ Xo, General,” answered the soldier. ‘‘ I came 
to say that a man has come up to the outposts 
on the eastern side and demands to see you on 
very important business. He says he knows you 
will want to have an interview with him.” 

“ Is he a Confederate ? ” 

“ Xo, sir ; he is in civilian dress, and rather a 
rough-looking fellow.” 

“ Let him come in,” directed the General. 
“ Bring him here.” He thought it probable that 
the man was a Tennessean friendly to the Union 
cause who might want to give him information 
about the movement of the Confederates. 

The orderly soon returned, leading a fat man. 
He was none other than Kearfoot. The former 
stood guard at the door, while the outlaw ad- 
vanced into the room and made a respectful bow 
to the General, who stood near the hearth. 

“ Is this the great General Thomas ? ” asked 
Kearfoot, in a voice that was meant to be con- 
ciliatory. 


2i 8 With Thomas in Tennessee 


Thomas’s face hardened. “Come, come,” he 
said gruffly ; “ I didn’t send for you that I might 
listen to your compliments. What do you want 
of me ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon, General,” returned Kear- 
foot, with a malicious gleam in his eyes. “ If 
you’re busy I’ll come back later. I merely 
wanted to tell you something about a young aide 
of yours — George Knight, I think, is his name.” 

Thomas was transformed. His contemptuous 
look turned to one of almost painful interest, as 
he asked, in a tone of entreaty, “ What of him? 
Tell me in Heaven’s name ! Is he well ? ” 

“ He is perfectly well,” answered the stranger, 
“ save for a slight wound in the leg.” 

“ Thank God ! ” murmured the General. 
“ Tell me where he is — why he didn’t turn up 
in camp last night — tell me what you know, 
quickly ! ” 

“ It’s a long story. General,” began the outlaw, 
as if uncertain just how to begin. 

“ Then cut it very short, man,” cried Thomas. 
“ Can’t you see that I am hungry for news 
of the boy ! ” 

“Oh, very well,” said Kearfoot. “Young 


Checkmated 


219 

Knight is at present in the hands of some non- 
partisan guerrillas.’’ 

“Non-partisan guerrillas ? ” 

“ I suppose you would call them robbers and 
outlaws, but that doesn’t matter. When Knight 
was skating yesterday afternoon he was caught 
by these men, shot in the leg, and carried 
off.” 

“ Carried off ! what for ? ” 

“In order that he might be returned to you 
upon the payment of twenty thousand dollars to 
me. I am the leader of the guerrillas ! ” 

The General was thunderstruck. His amaze- 
ment seemed to be only equaled by his anger. 
He fairly glared at Kearfoot as he cried : “You 
scoundrel ! ” 

The leader laughed like a man who thinks he 
has the best of the situation. “ Call me all the 
names you like,” he replied quietly. “ I simply 
offer you a chance to redeem the boy. If you 
don’t choose to pay the money within twenty- 

four hours — well — then ” He paused and 

shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Go on,” ordered Thomas sternly. 

“If you won’t, why then we will deliver him 


220 With Thomas in Tennessee 

over to General Yan Dorn as a spy who entered 
his camp as a farmer’s boy two weeks ago.” 

The orderly at the door so far forgot discipline 
in the presence of his General as to shake his 
fist in Kearfoot’s face and shout : “ Yillain ! ” 

Thomas himself hardly heard the voice. He 
was looking intently at the outlaw’s face as he 
might have looked at the Spirit of Evil. At 
last he said : “ I think I’ll have you taken out 

of the house and hung on the nearest tree ! ” 

You can do anything you want with me, 
General, but I feel it my duty to warn you that 
my men have orders to shoot Knight if I am de- 
tained for another hour in camp ! ” 

“ I see what kind of rogue I am dealing with,” 
answered Thomas calmly. “How long do I 
have to raise this twenty thousand dollars ? ” 

“ Say until noon to-morrow. I can come back 
into camp then, and if^you have decided to pay 
the ransom I will arrange to have Knight turned 
over to you.” 

“ And how would Knight be turned over 
to us ? ” 

Kearfoot laughed provokingly. “I don’t in- 
tend to tell you that until to-morrow. If I gave 


Checkmated 


221 


away my plans now you might try to trap me — 
perhaps make us all prisoners. If you pay the 
money the boy will be restored to you ; other- 
wise ” and the leader pointed significantly to 

his neck, to suggest the hangman’s noose. 

Thomas, by an almost superhuman effort, re- 
strained his desire to knock the man down. 
‘‘Lead this fellow out of camp,” he said to 
the orderly, “ and I’ll expect him to-morrow at 
noon.” 

The orderly ushered Kearfoot out of the 
room, after the latter had bowed low to General 
Thomas with an air of mock deference. 

“I don’t object to war,” said the General 
to himself, once more pacing up and down the 
floor, “but I do object to savage rascality. 
George must be saved, even if we have to pay 
the ransom. But is there no way of getting 
hold of these fellows between now and to- 
morrow ? ” 

As if in unconscious answer to this question 
Kearfoot suddenly poked his head back into the 
room. “Don’t bother to hunt us down. Gen- 
eral,” he said, “ for you’ll never be able to find 
us.” The next instant he was gone. 


222 With Thomas in Tennessee 

There’s nearly twenty-four hours in which to 
work,” thought Thomas. “ The first thing to do 
is to have a consultation with my staff.” And 
he rang for a servant. 

****** 

Let us now return to George Knight. We 
will find him ensconced in a room on the ground 
floor at the back of the house, directly across the 
hallway from the kitchen. The boy concluded 
that it was used as a card-room, a conjecture in 
which he happened to be correct. A large table 
covered with green ba-ize was in the centre of 
the apartment ; here and there were dilapidated 
chairs whose red ‘‘ rep ” covers had faded into a 
dirty brown ; on one side was a wood-fire ; on 
the walls, from which the paper was gradually 
falling, hung old-fashioned engravings that 
might have been there since the house was built. 

With the boy were both Dave and Charlie, 
who were lounging about the room, each smoking 
a very strong pipe. 

^‘This playing jailer to a boy is poor fun,” 
growled Dave, looking at George who was 
gazing gloomily out of a window at the barn in 
the rear. 


Checkmated 


223 

Charlie put his hands in his pockets and 
smiled. “ Think of that twenty thousand dollars,’’ 
he said. 

“ What’ll you and I get out of it, Charlie ? ” 

“ If we don’t get our full share there will be 
trouble,” retorted Charlie. “ Kearfoot must play 
us square.” 

Suddenly George heard the shrill call of a 
mocking bird. It seemed to come from behind 
the barn. “ That is the signal of Chesapeake 
Maryland,” he thought, as he felt like biting 
away his lips in sheer vexation. The negro was 
on hand, ready to take a thousand messages to 
the Union camp, yet neither he nor Chloe could 
communicate with him. Chloe had been locked 
up in the kitchen by Dave who, heeding the 
directions of Kearfoot, had seen to it that 
the old woman should find no chance to leave 
the house to “gossip” with friends or rela- 
tives. 

Once more came that provoking whistle of the 
mocker. The two outlaws sat down at the table 
and began to play a game of cards, by the aid of 
a very greasy pack which they had produced 
from the shelf of the fireplace. George remained 


224 


With Thomas in Tennessee 


at the window, as if spellbound at the sound of 
the bird’s piercing notes. 

A third time came the whistle. George 
stamped his foot on the floor with rage, but for- 
tunately recollected that he was not alone. Then 
a curious thing happened. He heard a window 
of the kitchen quietly open, and a voice — the 
melodious voice of none other than old Chloe — 
burst out with : 

“ Come up an’ see de ole woman, 

Come up an’ see ole Chloe ; 

Creep up, come up, you niggah boy, 

An’ be very careful what you do.” 

The verse was sung as if it were part of some 
old negro plantation melody, in that weird yet 
pleasant cadence which characterizes the vocaliz- 
ation of the untrained Southern “ darky.” But 
George, by virtue of his position at the window, 
could hear every word of it distinctly. A thrill 
went through him. He knew that the verse was 
an improon2}tu, and was meant as an invitation to 
Chesapeake Maryland to creep cautiously up to 
the kitchen. How his heart did leap at the pros- 
pect that even yet there was a chance of notify- 
ing General Thomas. 


Checkmated 


225 

What’s that nigger screeching about ? ” 
asked Charlie, suspending the game of 
cards. 

“ I’ll see that she ain’t up to any mischief,” 
muttered Dave. He rose from the table, 
walked across the hallway, and unlocked the door 
of the kitchen. 

When he entered the room, which did not 
smell the sweeter on account of lard burning in 
the great fireplace, Chloe was poking the blazing 
logs therein and singing, at the pitch of her 
lungs, “ Old Folks at Home.” One window, the 
one from which she had warbled her instructions 
to her son, was still open. 

“ What are you up to, old woman ? ” asked 
Dave, eyeing her critically, and nearly choking 
from the fumes of the burning lard. 

“ Me, massa ? ” asked Chloe, with an air of in- 
jured innocence which would have done credit to 
a great actress. “ I’m a gettin’ things ready fo’ 
your dinnah, lor’ bless you.” 

“ What’s that window open for ? ” 

“ Because de kitchen done gone and smell so as 
I’m nearly comberfiusticated.” 

The odor was certainly unpleasant enough to 


226 With Thomas in Tennessee 


suggest that any one might be “ comberflusti- 
cated ” in such an atmosphere. 

“ Are you intending to jump out of it ? ” asked 
the outlaw, resolved to be suspicious of an attempt 
to escape. 

Chloe laughed until the tears ran down her 
face, and beat her enormous black hands upon 
her chest. “ De idea o’ big Chloe a leapin’ out 
dat Avindow,” she cried. She stood in front of it, 
and made motions that were evidently intended 
as a comparison between her size and the size of 
the kitchen window. The cook weighed some 
two hundred and fifty pounds, and it was plain 
that she could not possibly emerge through the 
opening unless she should be squeezed out by 
means of a derrick or shot out from a huge cannon. 

Even Dave could not help laughing at the 
comparison. “ Well, don’t try any tricks,” he 
said, “or you’ll get yourself in hot water.” 

“ Trust ole Chloe,” answered the negress, roll- 
ing up her eyes and assuming an attitude of the 
most pious simplicity. 

Dave locked the door upon Chloe and re- 
turned to his game of cards. “ She’s safe 
enough,” he remarked. “ The door’s locked and 


Checkmated 


227 

she is too big to get out of a window. It’s my 
play, isn’t it ? You played that ace ? ” 

George knew that Chloe had been clever 
enough to pull the wool over the keen eyes of 
his captor. He uttered a secret exclamation of 
thanks, walked up and down the room several 
times, and then returned to the window. He 
would watch developments. 

It so happened that the distance between the 
barn, a decaying stone structure of goodly pro- 
portions, and the mansion house was about twenty 
yards. The intervening space was occupied by 
the remains of an old flower garden, long since 
allowed to go to seed, whose principal feature 
now consisted of serpentine walks bordered by 
hedges of green box which had grown, in the 
course of many years, to a height of four or five 
feet. It was, therefore, comparatively easy to 
reach the house unseen by creeping around these 
hedges, and that was exactly what Chesapeake 
Maryland did. George caught one glimpse of a 
dark figure crawling upon its stomach, like a 
snake, and then could detect it no more. He 
longed to see more, to know more, but it was im- 
possible. 


228 With Thomas in Tennessee 

This is what actually occurred. Chesapeake 
Maryland, a tall, middle-aged negro, with bright 
eyes and a shining, grinning face, crept up to 
within several feet of the open kitchen window, 
where his mother was now standing. She made 
a sign to him which seemed to say : “ Go to the 
side of the house, where there is no danger of 
your being seen from the people in the back room.” 

It should be borne in mind that the room 
wherein George and his captors were and the 
room used as a kitchen were both at the back of 
the house, separated by the hallway, but that the 
side of the first room had a western outlook, and 
the side of the kitchen an eastern outlook. 
Therefore, when Chesapeake Maryland, obeying 
his mother’s directions, crawled to the kitchen 
side of the house he was quite out of sight of the 
enemy, and would be, too, so long as the latter 
stayed in the card-room. 

Chloe opened a window on this eastern side, 
very slowly and quietly, and motioned to her 
son. He picked himself up, and stood boldly on 
the ground. 

“ Come, you lazy niggah ! ” whispered Chloe. 
“ J ump in here ! ” 


Checkmated 


229 

Chesapeake Maryland took a flying leap, 
vaulted across the window sill, and being bare- 
footed landed silently upon the floor of the 
kitchen. 

His mother regarded him with a superior, 
cynical air that was really comic. ‘‘ Ain’t you a 
good-fo’-nothin’ pickaninny,” she said, in a low 
but emphatic tone. “ You ornery niggah ! 
where were you last night, when I wanted yo’ so 
much ? Gone to a dance ! What wid dancin’ by 
night an’ loafin’ by day you pass a useful life, 
doan you ? ” 

Chesapeake Maryland hung his head, as if he 
had been detected in the greatest of crimes. He 
wore a pair of check flannel pants, a blue flannel 
shirt and a dirty palmetto hat, from which the 
brim had long since disappeared. 

“ Dreadful sorry, mammy,” he replied. 

‘‘ Doan talk so vociferous,” warned his mother, 
under her breath. “ There’s men on de other 
side o’ de hall. Come here, rascalmuffin, and 
listen to old Chloe, the mother o’ a thankless 
pickaninny.” 

The ‘‘ rascalmuffin ” cautiously approached his 
lady mother. He was careful not to get too 


230 With Thomas in Tennessee 

near her, for he knew, by many hard experiences, 
that, when not satisfied with him, she would give 
him more than one lusty box upon the ear. But 
in this instance she forgot to administer the 
aforesaid box. She shuffled to the door leading 
out into the hallway, put her ear to the keyhole, 
and, after convincing herself that no one was lis- 
tening, returned to Chesapeake Maryland, who 
bore upon his shining face a pacific grin. He 
had taken off his hat to show his respect for his 
fat parent. 

“ Say, Chesapeake,” whispered Chloe, “ do yo’ 
want to redeem your character fo’ bein’ de most 
good-fo’-nuffin’ niggah in Tennessee ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” answered Chesapeake Mary- 
land, putting on a smile that was intended to be 
propitiatory. One might have supposed, from 
his whole manner and bearing, that he was a 
boy of ten, tied to his mother’s apron-strings, 
rather than a man of mature age. 

“Yo’ have got to work like a mule to-day,” 
said Chloe, looking upon him sternly, “ but yo’ 
are not to run like a mule. You must run like a 
horse ! ” 

‘‘Yes, ma’am,” answered . Chesapeake Mary- 


Checkmated 


231 

land, very meekly. The fact was that Chesa- 
peake had remained at the dance until an unusu- 
ally late or early hour, and he felt more than 
usually conscience- stricken. So when he heard 
of his mother’s visit to his home he resolved to 
see her, as she had requested, and do all that he 
could to keep her in good humor. For the old 
woman ruled him, even at a distance, with a rod 
of iron, and he would no more have defied her 
than he would have defied a whole division of 
infantry. 

Then Chloe told him, in low tones, and as 
briefly as she could, the whole circumstances of 
George Knight’s capture. She told him, too, 
how he was to make quick pace for the Union 
camp, and communicate to the authorities there 
the boy’s predicament. He was to explain the 
exact location of the freebooter’s house and offer 
to lead back to it as many troops as General 
Kosecrans or Thomas cared to send. Further- 
more, Chesapeake Maryland was to warn the 
Union officers that, in the meantime, no ransom 
of any kind was to be paid to Kearfoot or his 
companions. The main thing necessary was to 
rescue George before any payment became due, 


232 With Thomas in Tennessee 

or before the outlaws had turned him over to 
the jurisdiction of Yan Dorn, the Confederate 
general. 

“ An’ now, you lazy niggah,” said Chloe, after 
she had finished her instructions, “ do yo’ think 
yo’ got enough brains to understand what I 
want you to do ? ” 

Chesapeake Maryland might be indolent, but 
he was no fool. Quite the contrary, indeed. 
He thoroughly understood every detail communi- 
cated to him by his sable mother, and was, more- 
over, anxious to engage in this conspiracy. 
“ Doan be afeered, mother,” he answered. “ I’se 
no idiot ! I’ll engage to have de Union troops 
here befo’ nigh’fall.” 

“Ef yo’ do, yo’ niggah,” murmured Chloe, 
‘‘I’ll engage never more to box your big ears 
again I Show that yo’ are good for somethin’ 
more than shootin’ rabbits ! ” 

Chesapeake Maryland put on his hat. He was 
about to vault out of the side window when, to 
his consternation and that of his mother, the key 
of the door leading from the hallway creaked, 
and the door itself was hastily thrown open. 
At the threshold was Dave. The two con- 


Checkmated 


233 

spirators stood still, as if they had been suddenly 
struck with paralysis. Here was an unexpected 
situation. 

“ Hah, my fine lady,’’ said Dave, very quietly. 

You are receiving visitors to-day, are you ? 
And you knew it was particularly desired that 
you should have no communication with the out- 
side world to-day ? Eh, Chloe ? ” 

Chloe recovered her presence of mind in an 
instant. “This gemmin,” she explained, point- 
ing to Chesapeake Maryland, “ is farmin’ here- 
abouts, and he’s jest brought me stuff for our 
supper.” 

The truth was that all the supplies for the 
house in the woods, with the exception of milk, 
procured from two cows in the barn, were 
brought there by the outlaws, who were fear- 
ful lest any stranger should penetrate to their 
hiding-place. It was therefore forbidden that 
Chloe should buy anything from the outside, 
save what the “ gang ” itself provided. Further- 
more, Dave knew that Chloe had been in 
close converse with this negro intruder for some 
minutes, although he had not been able, even by 
listening through the keyhole, to understand 


234 With Thomas in Tennessee 

what was said. Having become once again 
suspicious, he had left his game of cards and 
crept into the hallway. 

‘‘ Come, now,” thundered Dave. “ What are 
you telling this nigger ? ” 

“ He be my own son, Ches’peake Maryland,” 
cried Chloe, and he’s brought me chicken for 
supper.” 

“ Chicken ! ” echoed Dave. Ah, indeed ? 
And where’s the chicken ? ” 

There was not a chicken in the whole house. 
Chloe had not expected that her prevarication 
would be followed up in this way. She stopped 
short, without a word. Her wit had deserted 
her. But Chesapeake Maryland realized that 
with him it was a case of “ now or never.” With 
one bound he leaped out of the side kitchen win- 
dow and disappeared. 

I’ll have his black skin,” cried Dave. He 
drew a pistol from his belt, and, running to the 
window, aimed it at the retreating form of 
Chesapeake Maryland. Just as he fired, his 
right arm was pushed aside, and the bullet went 
wide of its intended mark. The negro, who was 
scurrying across the garden to the westward, 


Checkmated 


235 

continued on his course. His one thought was 
the Union camp. 

Dave turned around, a scowl upon his face. 
George Knight was beside him. He it was who 
had jostled the arm of the outlaw. 

“ What are you doing ? ’’ shouted the latter, 
adding some language that would not bear print- 
ing. 

“ I didn’t want you to commit murder,” said 
the boy, very calmly. He had, of course, seen 
Dave leave his game of cards, and knew that 
the man had suspicions that Chloe was interview- 
ing some one in the kitchen. So, after an in- 
terval of doubt, he had brushed past Charlie, 
hobbled into the kitchen, and diverted the aim 
of Dave just in the nick of time. Charlie 
was behind him in a flash, but misunderstanding 
the intent of the prisoner, he was not quick 
enough to prevent his interference with the shot 
of the other outlaw. 

Dave glared at George. “ There’s some 
plotting going on here ! ” he declared. And 
turning his pistol upon the boy he added : “ I’ve 
a great mind to put this into your heart ! ” 

George stood very still, and stared bravely into 


236 With Thomas in Tennessee 

the eyes of his captor. “ Go ahead,” he said, 
“ I’m not afraid.” 

Charlie went up to Dave, and put an arm 
upon his shoulder. “ Don’t kill the goose 
that lays the golden egg,” he observed, placing a 
new meaning on the old proverb. Eemember 
that General Thomas may give twenty thousand 
dollars for a live boy, but he won’t give twenty 
farthings for a dead one.” 

George could not help shuddering. ‘‘ They 
speak of me as if I were cattle,” he thought. 

Dave replaced his revolver in his belt. 
‘‘ You’re right, Charlie,” he answered. ‘‘ There 
is no use in getting rid of a good thing ; I’ll let 
this chick live. But I must know who that 
darky is, and what he was doing here. Come, 
you old mountain of human flesh, tell me, or this 
house will be without a cook in two shakes of a 
sheep’s tail ! ” 

“ Befo’ de light,” cried Chloe, coming straight 
up in front of Dave, with her arms akimbo, 

I’se gwine to tell you only de truth, de whole 
truth and nuflin’ but de truth.” There was such 
an expression of dusky innocence in her glisten- 
ing face that George waxed nervous. If she told 


Checkmated 


of Chesapeake Maryland’s mission, and thus put 
the outlaws on their guard, the last hope of 
rescue would be gone. 

“ See that you do tell the truth, and the whole 
truth,” commanded Dave sternly, as he recocked 
his pistol. 

“ Dat niggah was ma son, Ches’peake Mary- 
land, an’ he lives not far from here,” explained 
the cook. 

The boy groaned in spirit. “ She’s going to 
save herself by telling everything,” he thought. 
But he had misjudged her, for she continued : 
‘‘ He’s been visitin’ me to borrow money from 
me, but you frightened him away. That coon is 
always tryin’ to wheedle a dollar out of his pooh 
ole mammy.” 

‘‘ That fellow may be your son,” said her in- 
quisitor, “ but I don’t believe the rest of the 
story. You and he were up to some mischief.” 
He felt instinctively that the visit of the negro 
had a deeper significance than the asking for 
money, although, of course, he could not guess 
what it really meant. 

“ Cross my heart, I’m telling ye de truth,” re- 
plied Chloe, with an apparent sincerity that 


238 With Thomas in Tennessee 

might easily have deceived a great many per- 
sons. 

“ Cross your heart, will you ? ” cried Dave, 
looking very savage. “ I’ll do something to your 
heart with this pistol if you don’t tell me every- 
thing in exactly one minute.” 

He pointed his revolver at her as he spoke, so that 
the muzzle was within a few inches of her bosom. 

George rushed forward to interfere, heedless 
of consequences, but was at once caught by 
Charlie. “ Look here, boy,” he growled, pushing 
him back against the wall, “ keep out of this af- 
fair. We’ve had enough of your interference ! ” 

‘‘ Are you ready ? ” asked Dave, who was try- 
ing hard to frighten Chloe into a confession. 

“ Yeas, I’se ready ! ” cried the woman. Quick 
as a flash she struck the pistol out of Dave’s 
hand, and then, as it went rattling on the floor, 
gave him a blow under the belt that sent him 
spinning across the room and almost landed him 
on the blazing hearth. 

Charlie, astounded and almost stupefied by the 
suddenness of this action, relinquished his hold 
upon George, who, springing forward, seized the 
pistol from the floor. As he straightened him- 


Checkmated 


^39 

self up again, while a pain darted through his 
wounded leg, he beheld Chloe standing very 
quietly in the centre of the room. In one hand 
was a long knife which she had evidently ex- 
tracted from under her bodice. “ Come on, 
gemmin,” she observed. ‘‘ Ole Chloe is ready ! ” 
And she looked it. 

Charlie now recovered sufficiently from his 
surprise to run forward and pick up his compan- 
ion. The latter seemed stunned ; his face was 
pale ; it was plain that Chloe had delivered a 
“ knockout ’’ blow of which a young athlete 
might have been proud. 

“ Are you all right ? ” asked Charlie. 

All right ? ” snarled the other. All right, 
after being pounded by a great fat ox like that 
woman ? I feel as if I hadn’t any stomach left.” 

He glared at Chloe, who maintained her posi- 
tion as before, and exchanged a triumphant 
glance with George. Then Dave’s face grew paler 
than before, and he sat down upon a chair and 
leaned his head on the kitchen table. After re- 
maining in that interesting position for several 
minutes he rose to his feet. 

“ Feel better now ? ” asked Charlie. 


240 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ Yes,” he grunted. “ Where’s my revolver ? ” 

“ I have it,” said George, with a pleased ring 
in his voice, “ and I am going to hand it over to 
Chloe. She may need it to defend herself 
against such a rascal as you.” He knew that 
for a minute or two he was master of the situ- 
ation, and, none the less so, because Charlie’s 
pistol was reposing on the card-room mantel-shelf 
instead of in his belt. 

“ Here, Chloe,” continued the boy, handing her 
the weapon ; “ just keep that.” 

Chloe replaced the knife under her dress and 
took the pistol. “ Thanks, honey,” she said ; 
“ you’re de salt o’ de earth ! ” 

“ How, my gentlemen,” ordered George, “ if 
you’ll be kind enough to go back to your game 
of cards I’ll just stay here with your cook. You 
needn’t bother about me. I can’t run away from 
here with this leg of mine. But I prefer to re- 
main with her, to see that you don’t revenge 
yourself on her.” 

He crossed to the door, and changed the key 
from the outside to the inner side of the lock. 
Charlie looked at the boy as if he had some in- 
tention of making a spring at him. But, as he 


Checkmated 


241 


caught the eye of Chloe, who was fingering the 
revolver, he ended by taking the exhausted Dave 
by the arm and leading him from the kitchen. 
George now closed the door, locking it on the 
inside, and returned to where the old woman 
was standing. “ Chloe,” he said, “ you’re the 
finest woman in Tennessee ! ” 

Chloe showed her white teeth, and her big lips 
broadened into an enormous smile. “ Ole Chloe 
ain’t no spring chicken to be fooled by de first 
man as comes into de barnyard,” she said. 
‘‘ But, oh, honey boy, I’se afraid you’ve got 
yourn own self into a scrape, and de Lord only 
knows what Kearfoot’ll do to you when he comes 
home an’ de two here tells him how you defied 
’em.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” answered George. “ All Kearfoot 
cares about is that ransom. And he would for- 
feit that by harming me.” He spoke confi- 
dently, but down in his heart was the fear that 
Kearfoot would be furious at both himself and 
Chloe. Never mind,” he thought ; “ Chesa- 
peake Maryland is safe on his way to General 
Thomas.” 

Chloe now began her preparations for dinner 


2^1 With Thomas in Tennessee 

as unconcernedly as if nothing had happened. 
She eventually produced a meal that diffused 
such an appetizing odor that George became 
ravenously hungry. 

“You had better let me take the dishes in to 
Dave and Charlie, so they can’t do you any ill- 
turn,” said George, in a tone of command. He 
was resolved that nothing should happen to the 
faithful negress, if he could prevent it. 

“ Take dis good hash, dis corn-cake, dese eggs, 
dis soup — in to dem rascalmuffins ? Hot a bit o’ 
it, massa ! Do ye think old Chloe is gwine to 
feed dem ? Ho ! Dis dinner is fo’ you, honey, 
and fo’ Chloe.” 

So saying the cook served the dinner on the 
kitchen table, and invited George to “eat om- 
niferous,” as she expressed it. The boy, in the 
fulness of his heart, asked her to sit down at 
table with him, but Chloe, who knew her posi- 
tion and the conventionalities of life, politely 
nodded her head in the negative. “Ho niggah 
should set down at de same table with a white 
gemmin,” she said, speaking with the air of 
an oracle. So George sat down alone, perhaps 
not unwillingly, and did ample justice to a meal 


Checkmated 


243 

that was deliciously cooked ; for Chloe prided 
herself, not wrongly, upon being one of the best 
cooks in the whole South. 

“ Chloe,” said the boy, after he had finished 
his repast, and risen from the table, now it’s 
your turn.” 

The old woman seated herself at the board, 
made an ineffectual attempt to swallow two 
or three mouthfuls, and then, giving up the task 
as an impossibility, rose to her feet. 

I can’t eat, honey,” she announced. “ I’se 
too Avorried.” 

u Worried, Chloe ? About Avhat ? ” 

“ About you, honey. S’posin’ dat dere General 
Thomas won’ ranscom you ? What den ? ” 

Why, Chloe, do you forget about Chesapeake 
Maryland ? ” 

“ ITo, massa, but ef Kearfoot come back soon, 
and say General Thomas won’t ranscom ye, and 
Ches’peake Maryland ain’t got to Thomas yet, 
then Kearfoot may — bress de Lord, I doan like 
to think ! I doan want to think what he may 
do.” 

“ Kow don’t borrow trouble,” suggested 
George. He could not but see the force of 


244 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Chloe’s argument, but he had no intention of 
showing her that he had the slightest misgivings 
as to the result of this whole adventure. 

Just at this juncture there came a knock at the 
door leading from the hallway. George seized 
Dave’s pistol, which Chloe had placed upon the 
dresser, and went to the door. “ Who’s there ? ” 
he asked. I — Charlie Dowling,” came the 
answer. 

“ What d’ye want ? ” asked George. To 
which Charlie returned : I’m as hungry as 

a bay steer, and I want some dinner. Didn’t 
I smell it all across the hallway ? ” 

“Doan give him a thing, honey,” said old 
Chloe. “ He doan deserve nullin’ ! ” 

But George, who always revelled in the 
healthiest sort of appetite, had great sympathy 
for any hungry man. “ Are you up to any mis- 
chief there ? ” he demanded. “ Where’s Dave ? ” 
“ I ain’t up to any mischief,” replied Charlie. 
“ Dave is in the card-room, and his stomach ails 
him so that he couldn’t eat a thing, not even if it 
was forced down his throat with a crowbar. 
But I’m dead starving, — I am. And my pistol’s 
with Dave.” 


Checkmated 


HS 

George cautiously opened the door, and 
ushered the famished Charlie into the kitchen. 
He held the pistol in his hand as the outlavv 
entered, but it was quite evident that Charlie 
was, for the present at least, innocent of any 
idea of slaughter. Upon a motion from George 
he sat down at the table and quickly devoured 
what was left of Chloe’s dinner. He evidently 
had no false ideas of propriety upon the sub- 
ject. 

Chloe, however, was furious that this man, one 
of George’s enemies, should be enjoying himself 
to this extent. When Charlie had finished she 
glowered upon him and indicated, with very 
forcible expressions, that his absence was more de- 
sirable than his presence. 

‘‘All right, old girl,” he said, “I’m glad 
enough to go now that I’ve eaten your food. It 
w^asn’t your society I wanted ; it was your cook- 
ing.” He left the kitchen, and George heard 
him cross the hall, and return to the card-room. 
As the outlaw opened the door of the latter 
a groan from Dave could be distinctly heard in 
the kitchen. “I’ll tell you one thing,” said 
George, staring at Chloe with a funny twinkle in 


246 With Thomas in Tennessee 

his eye, and placing the pistol on the dresser; 
“ you can knock out a grown man all right.” 

‘‘ For de wicked shall perish from de face o’ de 
earth, answered Chloe. Her mood seemed sud- 
denly to change. She seized a copy of the Hew 
Testament from the dresser, and pretended to 
read texts therefrom ; but, as she held the book 
upside down, it was evident that she could not 
read. From quoting texts she burst into song, 
giving vent, with much fervor and rolling of 
eyes, to old plantation hymns. At last she sank 
down on a chair by the fire, and fell fast 
asleep. 

The minutes went on, as Chloe slept, and, 
rousing herself occasionally, slept again. George 
stalked the fioor of the kitchen like a caged lion. 
He was restless, and nervous, wondering what 
would be the outcome of the day. Dave and 
Charlie made no move to interfere with him in 
any way. It was evident that Dave had been 
rendered hors de comhat by the heavy fist of the 
cook. Once Charlie crossed the hallway, to 
knock at the door of the kitchen. ‘‘ Let me in, 
only for one minute,” he cried. I haven’t any 
firearms with me. I only want to get a cup of 


Checkmated 


HI 

hot water for Dave. He thinks it will do his 
stomach good.” 

George took a cup from the dresser and poured 
into it some hot water from a kettle hanging 
above the fire. He handed it out of the door, 
very cautiously, and turned the lock. Had the 
outlaw made’ the slightest move he was ready to 
slam the door in his face. But Charlie had no 
such intention. He was quite demoralized by 
the accident to his companion. He meekly de- 
parted to the card-room, where several groans 
suggested to the boy that Dave must be imbibing 
the hot water. During these proceedings Chloe 
had roused from her slumbers, to look at George’s 
good ofiices in a disapproving way, for she never 
could see the philosophy of being kind to one’s 
enemies, and then relaxed again into pleasant 
slumber. Thus time dragged on and on. 

It must have been about half-past three o’clock 
in the afternoon when George thought he heard 
the sound of approaching horsemen. He lis- 
tened, and finally he could distinguish the unmis- 
takable tread of horses’ feet over soft earth. A 
wild hope seized him. Could this be a company 
of cavalry seat tP ypscpe hinx by General Thomas, 


248 With Thomas in Tennessee 

at the instigation of Chesapeake Maryland? 
But his anticipations were soon dashed to the 
ground. He heard the unwelcome voice of 
Kearfoot. “ Whoa, you beast,” he was saying to 
his horse. 

Chloe sprang to her feet. “ There come dose 
devils I ” she cried, with more truth than polite- 
ness. ‘‘ Now, honey, our troubles will be- 
gin.” 

The horsemen, who were unmistakably Kear- 
foot and the three companions who had ridden 
off with him in the morning, drew up at the door 
of the house. The leader dismounted, after 
handing his horse over to one of the outlaws, 
and entered the mansion, to be joined, in a short 
time, by the others, who had placed their animals 
in the barn. George could hear them all talking 
in the card-room to Charlie and the invalided 
Dave. He longed to know whether Kearfoot 
had penetrated the Union lines, and, if so, what 
the result had been. 

Louder and louder grew the voices in the card- 
room, and loudest of them all, as if in angry 
protest, was that of Kearfoot. Once George 
heard him say, “ This is what comes of leaving 


Checkmated 


249 

the boy and the woman under guard of two 
fools ! 

Finally the leader, followed by all his compan- 
ions excepting the incapacitated Dave, strode out 
of the room, into the hallway. He knocked in a 
peremptory manner at the door of the kitchen, 
after trying it and finding that it was locked 
from the inside. “Let me in, boy,” he cried. 
But the “ boy ” was in no hurry to do anything 
of the kind. “ If I let you in,” he called, “ what 
do you intend doing with Chloe and me ? ” 

“None of your business,” shouted Kearfoot, 
who was evidently in a violent temper and a des- 
perate mood. Indeed, when Dave and Charlie 
had related to him the presence and disappear- 
ance of Chesapeake Maryland he began to fear 
that some communication with the Union camp 
was being attempted. 

“ I think I won’t let you in for the present,” 
said George, in a very placid tone. He gave 
Chloe, who was now standing by him, a reassur- 
ing glance. For once in her life she seemed 
frightened; she knew the reckless character of 
the men behind the door. 

The latter held a hurried consultation, in whis- 


250 With Thomas in Tennessee 

pers. George could not hear what was said, for 
the door was a thick, old-fashioned one of ma- 
hogany, and therefore well calculated to interfere 
with eavesdroppers. When the whispering 
ceased the men seemed to separate, two moving 
towards the back door of the hall and the others 
to the front door. 

Chloe, her eyes dilating, seized George by the 
arm. “Honey,” she said, “doan you see what 
they’s be gwine to do ? Go outside and shoot at 
us thro’ de windows.” 

“ Quick 1 ” cried George. “ The shutters I ” 
He hobbled over the floor, pulled in, and bolted 
the back shutters, while the negress did the same 
with the side shutters. They were not a minute 
too soon, for as the last bolt was put in place 
they could hear the men outside the kitchen. 
They could hear, too, a murmur of surprise. 
“ The boy was too smart for us,” said Charlie. 
To which Kearfoot made some reply in an un- 
dertone. Meanwhile Chloe had lighted a lamp 
upon the dresser, for the closing of the shutters 
had made the room dreary enough, save for the 
fire. 

“ I feel as if I were in prison,” said George, 


Checkmated 


251 

trying to appear more cheerful than he really 
felt. 

“ So we be, honey, so we be,” answered Chloe, 
dolefully. “ Dat Kearfoot means us harm.” 

‘‘ What kind of harm, Chloe ? ” 

“ De worst kind — death.” 


CHAPTER IX 


AT THE EIGHT MOMENT 

“I THINK you fear too much,” said George, 
rather to reassure the old woman than because he 
felt any real belief in his words. 

“ I knows what I’se talkin’ ’bout,” reiterated 
Chloe, ‘‘ an’ I knows dis Kearfoot, too. He’s got 
no feelin’ where feelin’s owt to be, an’ dere’s a flint 
where his heart should be. Didn’t I see him t’ 
other day shoot his setter jes’ ’cause the dog ran 
away from him ? Any man as could do dat could 
do anything. Ole Chloe’ll never forget de look 
in de eyes o’ the poor beast as it lay a-dyin’.” 

George could not help giving a little start. If 
Chloe kept on in this melancholy strain he would 
soon lose his nerve. As it was, the exciting ef- 
fects of the day were beginning to tell upon him. 
He felt tired, both mentally and physically. 

Soon the outlaws returned to the hallway, 
through the back door. Kearfoot now knocked 
at the kitchen door. ‘‘ Knight,” he said, “ we are 
252 


At the Right Moment 253 

going to break in this door, if we can’t get in any 
other way.” 

“ And if you do,” answered George, “ I’ll fire 
the pistol that I have here at the first man who 
enters the kitchen.” 

Kearfoot laughed, in a scornful way. “ Listen 
to a little cold reasoning,” he said, speaking very 
loud. “ If you try your pistol at us you can shoot 
only one man, whereas we will each have a drop 
on you ; and if one bullet doesn’t do you up, an- 
other surely will.” 

George could not help seeing the brutal force 
of this argument. After all, it came down to the 
fact that he was one against five or six. 

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he 
asked. 

“ Open the door and let us in,” said the leader. 
“Save us trouble, and save yourself your own 
life.” 

“ You’d better do it, honey,” advised Chloe. 
She was fearful that if the door should be broken 
in the boy would become the target of every man 
outside. 

George realized that it would be easy enough 
for the men to force the lock and enter the 


254 With Thomas in Tennessee 

kitchen. So he did not long hesitate as to his 
course. He turned the key halfway in the lock, 
and asked : “ If I let you in will you keep your 
revolvers in your belts or your pockets ? 

“ Yes,” answered Kearfoot. The bo}^ com- 
pleted the turning of the key, opened the door, 
and the six men, for they had now been joined b}'' 
Dave, looking still very pale, rushed into the 
room. They held their revolvers in their hands, 
despite their promises, and Dave, to replace the 
one taken by George, had supplied himself with 
a carbine which he proceeded to point at the lad. 

But Kearfoot tore forward, hit the carbine a 
blow that sent it reeling out of Dave’s hand, and 
cried : ‘‘You fool, this isn’t your funeral. I am 
running things here ! ” 

Dave picked up his weapon, sheepishly enough, 
and made no further attempt to take revenge on 
his adversary. But he contented himself by 
casting malicious glances at Chloe, whom he 
could not forgive for having knocked him out 
in such effective fashion. He still felt the re- 
sults. 

“ Here, woman,” commanded the leader, “ throw 
open the shutters. The room is stifling.” Chloe 


At the Right Moment 255 

did as she was bid, and extinguished the light 
upon the dresser. 

Kearfoot seated himself upon the kitchen table, 
with his companions grouped about the room. 
George stood opposite to him, with calm expres- 
sion and fearless pose. Chloe sat down near the 
fireplace. 

“ Well, well,” observed Kearfoot, a sarcastic 
inflection in his harsh voice ; ‘‘ I hear you^’^e been 
amusing yourself mightily since I went away this 
morning. You are a bright youth, you are.” 

“Thank you,” replied George, bowing with 
mock humility. “May I ask you what success 
you had with General Thomas ? ” 

“ General Thomas will give me a reply to-mor- 
row,” snarled Kearfoot. “ But that’s not what I 
am here for. I want to know, my precious young 
man, what plot you and Chloe have been con- 
cocting ? ” 

“ I’se willing to swear ” cried the negress, 

jumping to her feet, and anxious to throw the 
outlaw off the track by a denial. 

“ Hold your tongue, and sit down, you nigger ! ” 
said Kearfoot. And Chloe meekly obeyed. “ I’m 
not talking to you,^'* He turned to George. “ I 


256 With Thomas in Tennessee 

hear that a negro has been here, and escaped, af- 
ter having had a talk with Chloe. What are you 
or she trying to do ? Send information to 
Thomas 

The man had struck the mark so truly that for 
a second George was nonplused. But he quickly 
recovered himself. ‘‘ You attach a great deal of 
unnecessary importance to the chance visit of a 
colored man,” he interposed. 

‘‘ Come, my boy, don’t argue,” went on Kear- 
foot. “ If that negro had been perfectly inno- 
cent he wouldn’t have taken to the woods in the 
quick way he did. There’s something up, and I 
must know what it is ! ” 

George smiled. “You have a very vivid im- 
agination,” he answered. “ You must excuse me 
if I can’t swear that what you think is really 
true.” 

Kearfoot jumped from the table and put a 
hand menacingly upon the boy’s shoulder. 
“You’re a pretty smart fellow, for your age,” he 
said, “ but you can’t pull the blinds over my eyes. 
I want to get at the bottom of this little con- 
spiracy. I’ll give you exactly half an hour ” — here 
he looked at the clock hanging on the wall above 


At the Right Moment 257 

the dresser — “ and if by that time you don’t 
choose to make a full confession I’ll send you 
and Chloe out to the barn, and have you both 
shot ! My only regret is that I left you in 
charge of two such idiotic fools as Dave and 
Charlie ! ” 

The two idiotic fools ” hung their heads. 
This was not their lucky day. 

The leader and the lad gazed at each other 
steadfastly. It seemed as if the former wanted 
to read the very soul of the latter. But so far 
he had been unsuccessful. 

I have nothing to say,” said George, after a 
pause. “ And if you keep me here until dooms- 
day I will have nothing to say ! ” 

“Yery pretty,” sneered Kearfoot. ‘‘Perhaps 
you’ll change your mind in half an hour from 
now. Boys, one of you go down to the stable 
and get some rope. Quick now." 

“ Are you going to hang us ? ” asked the boy. 
“ I thought we were to be shot ? ” He believed 
that Kearfoot was trying to bully him into a 
confession, but he was not so sure that his failure 
to confess might not be rewarded by the threat- 
ened death. 


258 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ Don’t worry,” answered the outlaw. “ You 
won’t hang, even though you do happen to be a 
spy ! ” 

In the meantime Charlie had trotted off to the 
barn, only too glad to make himself useful to his 
disgusted commander, and to obtain the desired 
rope. Whilst he was gone, not a word was 
spoken by any one in the kitchen, nor was a 
sound heard save the ticking of the clock. 
“ Click, clock, click, clock,” it went, as if it were 
measuring out the last few minutes that poor 
George and the faithful Chloe were to live. 

In a little while, that is to say, in three or four 
minutes, Charlie returned to the kitchen, bearing 
a coil of small rope, of the thickness of the kind 
used for a clothes-line. 

“ Bind up the boy and the woman, with their 
arms behind them,” ordered Kearfoot ; “ tie their 
feet, too, and set them on the floor. Be careful 
not to hurt the boy’s wounded leg, though, when 
you do it.” 

George could not help marveling at the con- 
tradictory character of his enemy. Here was a 
man who, in one breath, threatened him with 
death, and, in another, directed that his wounded 


At the Right Moment 259 

leg be spared any pain. Perhaps it was that the 
physician cropped out now and then, even in the 
desperado. 

It did not take long for the men to bind the 
two prisoners in the manner requested, and place 
them, side by side, on the floor near the fire- 
place. George offered no resistance; he knew 
that to do so would be madness. When this work 
was concluded Kearfoot said : Come, fellows, 
we’ll leave these two to their thoughts. They 
can’t do any mischief now. If in, well, — he 
looked once more at the clock, — ‘‘ I’ll still give 
you half an hour, though you don’t deserve it. 
If, at the end of that time, neither of you con- 
fesses, you know what’s in store for you ! Come, 
fellows ! ” 

The leader left the kitchen, accompanied by 
his followers, and returned to the card-room. He 
was angry, suspicious, ill at ease. He had hoped 
to frighten the two prisoners into the admission 
that they were attempting to communicate with 
the Federal camp at Murfreesboro — a thing 
which, if it were the case, it was very essential 
for him to know. For, if Rosecrans or Thomas 
had been warned of George’s whereabouts by 


26 o With Thomas in Tennessee 

the mysterious negro, an attack from troops 
might be apprehended, and, in that case, it be- 
hooved the outlaws to disappear from the house 
into the woods in short order. And what would he 
do if George and Chloe refused to confess ? He 
hardly knew himself. He had not abandoned all 
hopes of that ransom. But if the boy angered 
him by remaining silent — he might carry out his 
threat. 

George’s thoughts, as he sat, in his bonds, near 
old Chloe, were as bitter as they were contradic- 
tory. He knew that if he did not make a full 
confession he and the negress would, in all likeli- 
hood, meet the fate that was threatened them. 
Yet if, on the other hand, he made a clean breast 
of things, and acknowledged that Chesapeake 
Maryland had gone to the Union camp, what 
would these “non-partisan guerrillas” do with 
him? Would they spirit him away to some 
safer place, or would they, in their rage, shoot 
him and Chloe, in order to get rid of them ? 

“ Chloe,” he said, “ we are in a tight place.” 
He looked at the kitchen clock as he spoke ; al- 
ready five minutes of precious time had gone 

by. 


26 i 


At the Right Moment 

The old woman was rocking herself backward 
and forward, and muttering what sounded like 
some “ Yoodoo ” incantation — a relic of the days 
when the ancestors of the Southern slaves were 
deep in the mysteries of African witchcraft and 
paganism. “ I doan care fo’ myself,” she 
moaned ; I’se an ole woman, and death would 
come to poor Chloe soon enough anyway, but 
I’se sorry for you, ma honey. You is too young 
to be shot I Glory, glory ! Hallelujah ! ” 

“ If I tell them the truth — if I tell them that 
Chloe got Chesapeake Maryland to go to Gen- 
eral Thomas,” thought the boy, “ they will prob- 
ably shoot her anyway, even if they preserve me 
in the hope of that ransom.” 

This thought decided him to say nothing. He 
was determined that whatever might happen to 
him, he would not endanger the life of the 
negress. She had behaved like a heroine — nay, 
like half a dozen heroines — in order to shield 
him, and he would rather die than utter one 
word which might be the means of jeopardizing 
her. If they put her to death without a confes- 
sion from either of them, he would at least have 
the satisfaction of knowing that it had been 


262 With Thomas in Tennessee 


through no fault, through no false confidence, of 
his own. 

The minutes flew on, as they always do when 
we want the time to go more slowly. At last 
the clock pointed to the moment when his fate 
was to be decided. Hardly had the hand passed 
that point when Kearfoot and his companions 
came back into the kitchen. 

Have you two made up your minds to be 
sensible and make a clear breast of things ? ” he 
asked, in a plausible voice. 

Chloe shook her head in the negative. The 
leader stared hard and eagerly at George. “ I’ll 
try to gain a little time,” thought the latter. So 
he said aloud : “ I’d like to have a talk with you 
alone.” 

Kearfoot stamped his foot impatiently. 
“ There’s no time for a talk,” he exclaimed. 
“ Tell me, now or never ! ” 

Listen ! ” cried Chloe. Some one’s coming.” 
Every one started ; a dead silence prevailed in the 
room. It was broken by the leader. “ You’re 
crazy,” he said to the old woman. “ I don’t hear 
a thing, except the cackling of some geese out- 
side.” 


At the Right Moment 263 

Chloe shook her head. “ These ain’t no 
geese,” she answered. “ Listen 1 Horses ! ” 
She fairly shrieked the last word in her excite- 
ment. 

“ Hush I ” thundered Kearfoot. He listened 
intently for half a minute, after throwing open 
the door leading into the hallway. ‘‘By the 
Lord Harry, she’s right ! ” he said, with an air of 
half -suppressed rage. 

George could now hear what the more sensi- 
tive ears of the negress had already detected. 
The gallop of horses’ feet — not a walk, but a 
gallop — came nearer and nearer the house. His 
heart leaped with delight. “ At last ! ” he 
thought. “ Chesapeake Maryland got to camp ! ” 

“You hound!” shouted Kearfoot, his wicked 
eyes all aflame. “ This is some of your work 
and that nigger’s I You have brought the Yan- 
kees down upon us ! ” 

George laughed in a provoking way. “ Per- 
haps it is only a few friends coming to spend the 
night with you,” he said. 

“ I’ll get even with you yet,” hissed the out- 
law. He was about to make a spring at the boy, 
as if about to strike him on the head with the butt 


264 With Thomas in Tennessee 

end of his revolver, when Charlie pushed him 
back. “ Don’t bother with the boy now ; you’ve 
got to save us. They are coming through the 
woods.” 

Kearfoot paused, and then ran into the hall. 
“ Those are cavalrymen,” he said ; “ I can hear 
the clinking of sabers ! ” Though the cavalcade 
was, perhaps, still a quarter of a mile away the 
metallic din of steel could be easily heard. 

“ What are we to do ? ” asked the men, all in 
one breath. 

For a minute Kearfoot had lost his customary 
presence of mind. But now he regained it, and 
he gave his orders with the quickness and pre- 
cision of a hard-pressed but resourceful general. 

‘‘ There’s no chance for us to get away from 
here now,” he said, and if we shut ourselves up 
in the house to stand siege the soldiers will only 
stay here till they starve us out. I’m going to 
try a little strategy, instead.” 

“ Strategy ? ” echoed his companions. 

‘‘Yes, strategy. You men will stay here with 
the two prisoners — all of you except Charlie who 
is to come with me to the front door. He will 
stand on the steps, while I will walk down the 


At the Right Moment 265 

roadway with a flag of truce to meet them.” 
Here he pulled a large napkin from the kitchen 
table. “ I shall tell them that if they come an- 
other step to capture us, George Knight’s life 
will be the penalty. Charlie, if I turn and wave 
my hand to you, run back to the kitchen here 
and have my order carried out. Let the boy be 
shot ! If the soldiers consent to go away, or to 
pay ransom for him, don’t harm him.” 

‘‘I don’t care what you do to me,” said 
George, “ if you’ll only untie these ropes. My 
arms and legs are stiff.” 

“ Untie both the prisoners,” ordered Kearfoot, 
‘‘ but watch them well.” Without more ado he 
and Charlie left the room. George and Chloe 
were immediately unbound, much to their relief, 
and allowed to sit down on chairs, whilst their 
guardians, having shut and locked the door, 
watched over them with their pistols. 

“ Humph ! ” said Dave, in accents of admi- 
ration, Kearfoot is the champion bluffer.” 

“ Will this bluff work ? ” asked George. His 
nerve had all returned to him. He no longer 
felt tired j he was once more buoyed up by the 
excitement of a new and precarious situation. 


266 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“If the bluff doesn’t work,” answered Dave, 
quite as if he were discussing the killing of a 
chicken or something equally inconsequential, 
“it will be because your companions in the 
Union army would rather capture us than save 
your life.” 

“ Glory, glory ! ” shouted Chloe suddenly. 
“ Oh, dis be a wicked world ! ” 

What was happening outside this gloomy 
house ? When Kearfoot walked out of the 
kitchen he left Charlie stationed on the front 
door steps, whilst he strode down the pathway 
almost to the end of the clearing. In front of 
him was the road through the dense woods. 
Through it were coming, two abreast, a long line 
of horsemen. Just how many of them it was 
impossible to tell. He thought there must be 
over two hundred of them, nor was he far wrong 
in this estimate. 

But there was no more time for think- 
ing. Already had the first two horsemen, one 
of them wearing the uniform of a major 
of cavalry, arrived at the very edge of the 
clearing. 

Kearfoot waved the napkin which he had 


At the Right Moment 267 

brought from the kitchen table. “A truce! a 
truce ! ” he cried. 

The Major and his companion, evidently a 
young lieutenant, reined in their horses, and the 
line behind them gradually came to a standstill. 

“ Who in creation are you ? ” demanded the 
Major savagely. He was big and black bearded, 
and looked like a man who was not to be trifled 
Avith. 

“ I am Kearfoot, leader of the guerrillas, who 
have charge of young Knight,” began Kearfoot, 
coolly. “ Do you see that man standing on the 
door step of the house? Well, if you fellows 
advance a step farther he will give a signal to 
others inside the house, and the boy will be dead 
before you can say ‘ Jack Robinson M So if you 
Avant him to live I advise you to go straight 
back to camp, and tell General Thomas I am 
Availing for that tAventy thousand dollars of 
ransom.” 

The Major looked at the young lieutenant, and 
then back again at the leader of the outlaws. 
He had seen much service, but never had he had 
to encounter any but an honorable enemy. And 
here Avas a scoundrel whose effrontery Avas only 


268 With Thomas in Tennessee 

equaled by his Mephistophelian ingenuity. Here 
were two hundred and forty well-armed cavalry- 
men ready to seize six men, yet they were being 
held at bay by the strategy of one of the six. 
The Major regarded him with an expression 
wherein contempt for his rascality was not un- 
mingled with a sarcastic admiration of his 
cleverness. 

“ By George,” he said, “ you are magnificent ! ” 

Kearfoot pulled off his hat and bowed low, in 
mock courtesy. “ You do me too much honor,” 
he answered. But let us avoid compliments. 
What do you intend to do ? ” 

It must be confessed that the question was 
something of a poser to the Major, who had been 
entirely unprepared for such a denouement as the 
present one. He had expected to rush in and 
save George Knight; not to be met upon the 
threshold of the house by such a tragic dilemma 
as the one advanced by Kearfoot. 

“ If you will withdraw, and let me have a con- 
sultation with several of the officers,” said the 
Major at last, “ I will tell you later what my line 
of action will be.” 

Kearfoot hesitated. ‘‘If I do withdraw,” he 


At the Right Moment 269 

replied, “ I will go only as far as the front steps 
of the house, and you must not advance your 
men any farther than you are now.” 

“ I must have some talk with my officers to 
decide as to whether I accept your proposal or 
not,” retorted the officer, and, if I do that, I 
must get them out here into the clearing.” 

“Well, you and three or four others may 
come out into the clearing,” assented the leader 
of the outlaws, “ but the rest must stay in the 
roadway.” 

“ All right,” returned the Major. “ That will 
do.” 

Kearfoot retreated, with his face to the enemy, 
towards the door step upon which Charlie stood. 

“You were too smart for the Yankees,” said 
Charlie, admiringly. 

“ I rather think I have the better of them,” 
observed Kearfoot, placing his hat on his head. 
“ They are in a quandary.” 

Meanwhile the Major, whose name was Smeth- 
urst, had drawn several other officers out into 
the clearing, including the young lieutenant 
already referred to, two captains of cavalry, 
somewhat older, and an adjutant, a grizzly. 


270 With Thomas in Tennessee 

white-moustached fellow who looked as if he 
might have seen many a year’s service out on the 
plains, among the Indians. 

“We have a devil to deal with,” said Major 
Smethurst, and he explained to them the threat 
of Kearfoot. 

“ Let’s storm the place at once,” suggested the 
young lieutenant, whose one idea always was, 
“ fight, fight early, fight often, fight at once.” 

The grizzly adjutant laughed in a good- 
natured way. “That’s like a boy,” he said. 
“ Don’t you understand that the first defensive 
move we make will be followed by the killing — 
I mean by the murdering — of George Knight ? 
And don’t you understand, also, that if we did 
anything to put the boy’s life in jeopardy, and 
he fell a victim. General Thomas never would 
forgive us ? ” 

“ You’re right,” said the Major ; “ if anything 
is accomplished here it must be by diplomacy. 
Don’t let us do anything that may endanger 
young Knight’s life. General Thomas dotes on 
the lad, and even I, although I’ve seen very 
little of him, would be the last person on earth 
to bring him any harm through ray recklessness.” 


At the Right Moment 271 

The young lieutenant hung his head. “ I 
didn’t weigh the consequences,” he explained. 
‘‘I want to see Knight’s life saved under any 
circumstances. I know him, like him, and 
would do all I could to save him.” 

Every one in the council agreed in this senti- 
ment. “Well,” said Major Smethurst, “we are 
all agreed that under no circumstances must we 
compromise Knight. But is there any way that 
Ave can avoid doing that and yet get ahead 
of these wretched outlaws ? ” 

“How many of these guerrillas are there?” 
asked one of the cavalry captains. 

“ That negro, Chesapeake Maryland — he’s back 
of the lines somewhere — says there are six,” an- 
swered Smethurst. “ Just to think. We are over 
two hundred strong, yet we are kept at bay by 
the ingenuity of one desperado who ties up our 
hands and practically defies us.” 

The adjutant patted his horse on the neck and 
said : “ There’s only one way to beat this out- 

law, and that is by his own weapons. He has 
fought us Avith diplomacy rather than arms. 
Let us conquer him, too, by diplomac3^” 

“ Hoav ? ” asked the young lieutenant. 


272 With Thomas in Tennessee 

The adjutant began to whisper, and the other 
officers leaned forward on their horses to drink 
in his words. When he had finished there was a 
murmur of approval from the rest. Good,’^ 
said the Major. “ There’s a Koland for an Oliver. 
We’ll win the day yet, thanks to you.” And 
the adjutant fiushed crimson. It was the proud- 
est day in his life. 

Kearfoot here came back from the steps and 
confronted the officers in council. “ Gentlemen,” 
he said, looking at them with a malevolent leer 
on his countenance, “don’t you think that I’ve 
given you enough time to deliberate?” 

“Yes, plenty of time,” returned Major Smeth- 
urst. “ And all we now want is to ask a ques- 
tion of you.” 

“ Fire away, but don’t be too long about it,” 
retorted the outlaw. He was disposed to be 
dictatorial; he felt that he commanded the 
entire situation. 

“ You have been too smart for us,” said the Ma- 
jor. “ I confess it, unwillingly enough.” Here 
Kearfoot’s eyes gleamed triumphantly. “ So the 
only thing to do is to ransom the boy. I will 
take all my men back to camp, procure the 


At the Right Moment 273 

money, and return here myself with it. How 
does that suit your Royal Highness ? ” 

“First-rate,’^ said Kearfoot. “I thought I’d 
get my money’s worth out of the boy.” The 
prospect of securing the twenty thousand dollars, 
and of dividing it as much in his own favor as 
possible, imparted a bright if hardly pleasant 
smile to his fat countenance. 

Smethurst was studying that countenance in- 
tently, and he saw the greedy joy of its ex- 
pression. 

“ But you get the ransom on one condition ; if 
you won’t agree to that,” he said, “ we ride 
away and leave the boy to you.” 

“ What is the condition ? ” asked Kearfoot. 

“I must have five minutes’ private conversa- 
tion with Knight, away from any of your men 
and free from their intimidation. I must go 
with him alone into a room in your house. The 
cavalry will remain here with orders to come no 
nearer the house. If they venture to disobey 
me — well, I am alone, in your power, — but they 
will not hazard my life by doing anything of the 
kind.” 

“ What do you want to say to the boy ? ” 


274 With Thomas in Tennessee 

‘‘It’s a matter concerning him and General 
Thomas.” 

“ Why can’t it wait until the boy is back in 
camp?” 

“ Oh, if you won’t allow it,” said the Major, 
“you may lose your money. I can’t see why 
you should object, anyway. I will be in your 
house unarmed, and entirely at your mercy. I 
am taking all the risk, you none.” As he spoke 
the officer handed over his sword and pistols to 
the young lieutenant, to show that he would 
enter the house without a weapon. “All you 
have to do is to put George Knight and myself 
in a room together, shut the door on us, and there 
you have us in your power. If you think we 
will try any tricks, like jumping out of the win- 
dow, why then put us in the second story, or in 
the attic.” 

Kearfoot hesitated. Why did the officer want 
to speak to the boy? Still, there seemed no 
danger. The officer was taking the risks, not 
himself, and there was the chance of the twenty 
thousand dollars ; or rather the certainty of it if 
he allowed this interview. The thought of the 
gold decided him. 


At the Right Moment 275 

“You can do it,” he announced. “Only no 
treachery. If any of your men come any nearer 
the house while your are in it your life will pay 
for it, my friend.” 

“ That’s understood,” said the Major. And 
addressing his officers, he ordered them, in the 
most imperative tones, to remain where they 
were, and to keep the troops behind them at a 
halt. “Otherwise,” he added solemnly, “you 
will be responsible for the death of your Major.” 
He dismounted, turning his horse over to the ad- 
jutant, and walked up to the steps of the man- 
sion, accompanied by the outlaw. 

“ God bless him,” said the adjutant, solemnly. 
“May the trick succeed.” His brother officers 
received this wish with a fervent “ Amen ! ” 
Smethurst was taking big risks, nor were they 
ignorant of the fact. 

“ The boy is in the kitchen,” exclaimed Kear- 
foot, as they stood, with the surprised Charlie, 
who did not understand the officer’s presence, 
well within the doorway. 

The Major halted. “ One thing must be thor- 
oughly understood before we go any farther,” he 
said. “ I don’t propose to talk to Knight in a 


276 With Thomas in Tennessee 

room on the ground-floor, where any of your 
men can shoot at me through a window if they 
feel gay.” 

“ I’ll order them to let you alone,” answered 
the leader. 

“ If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer an 
upper room, thank you.” 

‘‘Yery well; it makes no difference to me,” 
returned Kearfoot. He thought that the Major 
was suddenly growing nervous. “Charlie,” he 
said, “ take this officer up to the room in which 
George Knight slept last night. I’ll bring the 
boy up myself.” 

Charlie conducted Smethurst up the staircase 
and ushered him into the room which George 
had occupied. 

“ This apartment is not sumptuously fur- 
nished,” remarked the Major, satirically, as he 
glanced critically around him. For some reason 
the room, shabby as it was, seemed to afford him 
more interest than any one could have expected. 

Charlie smiled. “ If we get twenty thousand 
dollars out of you fellows,” he observed, “ we’ll 
put in better furniture, and invite you to stop 
with us.” 


At the Right Moment 277 

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. 
In another minute George hobbled into the room, 
guarded by Kearfoot and Dave. When the lad 
saw a Union Cavalry Major before him he gave 
an exclamation of surprise and delight. It was 
good to see the old uniform again. But it sud- 
denly came over him that the man might be a 
prisoner. ‘‘ I hope you haven’t been captured ? ” 
he asked. 

“ N'ot a bit of it,” laughed the officer. “ I am 

Major Smethurst, of the th Cavalry, and 

I’ve something to say to you of importance. 
After I’ve talked to you, I’m going back to camp 
to secure your ransom.” 

George fairly gasped in wonderment. What 
did all this mean ? 

The Major turned to Kearfoot. ‘‘ If you will 
leave me alone with the boy for not over five 
minutes, and shut the door — lock it, if you want 
— I’ll be ready to return to Murfreesboro.” 

Kearfoot went up to the officer and proceeded 
carefully to feel his clothing, in order to see if 
he had any weapon concealed about his person. 
After satisfying himself, apparently, that the 
Major was harmless in this respect, he ordered 


278 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Charlie and Dave to leave the room. They hur- 
ried out into the hallway and Kearfoot followed. 
“In five minutes,” he said, “I shall open the 
door.” The Major bowed acquiescence. Then 
the leader of the guerrillas shut the door, and 
took the precaution of locking it from the out- 
side. 

As the key turned in the lock Smethurst 
walked up to George. “Come away from the 
door,” he whispered. They walked over towards 
the fireplace, which was now cold and empty 
of wood. “My coming here,” went on the 
Major, “ is a trick, a piece of strategy.” He ex- 
plained the clever scheme of the outlaw leader, 
which had practically rendered useless the ex- 
pedition in rescue of the boy, and added : “ So 
we had to meet strategy with strategy. But 
there’s not time now to explain our scheme. 
Will you put yourself entirely in my hands, and 
trust me blindly ? ” 

“ Indeed I will,” whispered George. “ Do 
what you will with me.” 

“ Good,” answered Smethurst. “ If we are to 
succeed in this enterprise, it’s necessary that we 
be able to secure that door yonder against being 


At the Right Moment 279 

opened by these desperadoes, only for one min- 
ute. Give me one minute’s time to keep them 
out and victory is ours ! ” 

“I don’t understand,” replied George. He 
confesssed that he was bewildered. 

“ I must give a signal which will be a whistle 
from one of these windows,” the officer explained, 
as he pointed to a window in the front of the 
room, looking out in the direction of the troops. 
“ Indeed, it was agreed that a shrill, penetrating 
whistle from any window in any part of the 
house should be the signal. Now between that 
signal and the appearance here, in this hallway, 
of my troops will take exactly a minute. During 
the course of that minute it is necessary that we 
should protect ourselves against the rascals out- 
side in the hallway. Otherwise they will rush 
in and kill us, which won’t be exactly jolly. Do 
you understand me now ? ” 

“Thoroughly,” answered the boy. He saw 
that one minute’s possession of the room would 
give the Union cavalrymen time to capture all 
the outlaws. It was an ingenious scheme. “ I 
understand perfectly,” he continued. “While 
the row with the cavalry is going on we will be 


28 o With Thomas in Tennessee 


safe from the vengeance of Kearfoot. But how 
to keep the door closed ? Shall we move the 
bureau against it, or the bedstead ? ’’ 

“ Don’t bother to do either,” said Smethurst, 
in a confident way that was enough to re- 
assure the most wavering mind. “As long 
as your chief captor has been kind enough to 
lock the door let us take advantage of the fact, 
and save ourselves from any unnecessary physical 
exercise.” 

He produced from a waistcoat pocket a small 
penknife. “ I can run this in the keyhole,” he 
explained in low tones, “ and so work it around 
that no one on the outside can turn the key.” 

“ By Jove,” cried George, “ that’s a capital 
idea ! ” 

Major Smethurst opened the knife and showed 
one of its two blades. “ This will do the busi- 
ness,” he said softly. He crept to the door, 
silently inserted the knife, and twisted it in such 
a way that it would be quite impossible to turn 
the key in the lock. “ My boy,” he went on, 
“you must stick to the door. You must keep 
the knife in its present position, while I give the 
signal.” 


28 i 


At the Right Moment 

George seized the handle of the knife, and 
kept its blade in the hole in the exact position 
indicated by the Major. He was just in time, 
for Kearfoot, hearing some slight noise at the 
door, ran forward in the hall and tried to turn 
the key. ‘‘ What are you fellows up to ? ’’ he 
asked, suspiciously. 

Hold the knife,” cautioned Smethurst. 
Then he ran to one of the front windows, which 
he opened, and gave utterance to a long, low but 
piercing whistle which might have been heard 
for half a mile at least. 

He then closed the window and returned to 
George Knight. Kearfoot was pounding at the 
door, and making violent attempts to unlock it. 
But he could not turn the key. There was a 
mysterious obstruction which prevented him. 

Let me in ! let me in ! ” he cried. 

“ Come in yourself ! ” retorted the Major. 
“ You have the key.” 

Kearfoot continued to rattle at the lock. 

There’s some funny game going on here,” he 
said. 

“ Hark ! ” cried Dave. I hear the soldiers 1 ” 

Kearfoot ran and looked out of the front 


282 With Thomas in Tennessee 


hall window. And as he gazed he grew white 
and then whiter. For the horsemen, hearing 
the whistle of their commander, had galloped, 
two by tw'o, into the open space surrounding the 
house and were now gathering there in formida- 
ble array. Then a cheer rent the air. They 
felt that they were on the verge of triumph. 

“Tricked!” shouted Kearfoot. “We are 
tricked ! ” As selfish in danger as in prosperity, 
the leader deserted his companions, and dashed 
up the stairway to the attic. He resolved to sell 
his life dearly. He opened a door, rushed into a 
room and turned the bolt. “ Fool ! fool that I 
was 1 ” he cried. “ How could I have let myself 
be duped in this way ? ” 

In the meantime the cavalrymen were swarm- 
ing into the house with cries of eager anticipa- 
tion. Into the hallway, and thence through 
other rooms they rushed until some of them 
reached the kitchen, where they found three 
alarmed outlaws guarding poor old Chloe. 

“ Laws a mercy ! ” yelled Chloe, delighted yet 
frightened by this avalanche. “ DonT kill me ; 
I’se for the Union and Abe Lincoln ! Glory I 
glory ! ” 


At the Right Moment 283 

But the invaders had no intention of killing 
the negress. They swooped down upon her 
three guards and made them prisoners almost 
before they understood what had happened. 

Other cavalrymen, pouring up the stairway to 
the second story, came upon Dave and Charlie. 
These two they secured after the latter had fired 
off a revolver which, fortunately, missed its 
mark, so that the bullet spent itself in the wall 
of the hall. 

“We are safe!” cried Major Smethurst, as 
George took the pen knife from the keyhole. 
“ Here, boys, let us out ! ” 

The soldiers, delighted to hear the voice of 
their commander, tore to the door of the bed- 
room. “ Unlock the door ! ” shouted the boy. 
They instantly obeyed, and flocked into the 
apartment, crowding about the officer and the 
young aide. “ Hurrah 1 ” shouted the rescuers, 
and the two who were rescued joined in the 
glad cry. 

Among the party was the adjutant. “ Where’s 
the leader of the guerrillas ? ” he asked excitedly. 

“Up-stairs in the garret,” replied George. He 
had heard Kearfoot mount to the third floor. 


284 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Up ran the adjutant to the garret, followed by 
perhaps twenty men. By this time the house 
was filled with soldiers, and all the outlaws save 
the leader were captives. 

The adjutant and his followers ran through 
the garret, from room to room, until they 
reached one in the rear of the mansion. The 
door was locked. The adjutant pounded upon 
it. There was no answer. “ Come out, man ! ” 
he shouted, all breathless by his exertions. Still 
no answer. By this time George and the Major 
had joined them. 

“ If you are in there, Kearfoot,” called George, 
“you had better come out I You won’t gain 
anything by staying here.” 

Still no answer. But the ears of the boy could 
detect the sound of some one moving around the 
room. 

“Let us break down the door,” the adjutant 
said. Then there came a voice from within. 
“I’ll not keep you long,” it said. It was the 
voice of Kearfoot. The next instant there was 
a loud report, and then a sound as of a body 
falling heavily upon the floor. 

“Break down that door, I say!” cried the 


At the Right Moment 285 

adjutant. At once half a dozen soldiers pressed 
against the door with all their might. Suddenly 
it gave way with a crash, and the soldiers dashed 
into the room. But why describe what met 
their sight ? Only let it be written that Kear- 
foot was lying dead, with a bullet in his head. 

****** 

Within another hour the cavalrymen were on 
their way to the camp at Murfreesboro. With 
them went the five outlaws, mounted on their 
own horses and strictly guarded. The body of 
Kearfoot had been hastily interred in a grave 
dug near the back of the house. But his horse 
had been useful, for upon its back were perched 
two dusky persons, one, old Chloe, and her com- 
panion none other than Chesapeake Maryland, 
who had ridden on from camp after the cavalry 
and arrived in time to witness the funeral of 
Kearfoot. The face of Chesapeake Maryland 
was wreathed in smiles. His appearance had 
been the cause of great enthusiasm among the 
soldiers, and when George explained what Chloe 
had done, and how bravely she had acted, she, 
too, came in for the warmest sort of praise. 


286 With Thomas in Tennessee 

As the troops left the woods the boy, who was 
astride a horse with Major Smethurst, got near 
the two negroes. “ Chloe,” he said, “ you’re a 
heroine — and your son, Chesapeake Maryland, is 
a hero.” 

Chloe was not sure what either hero or hero- 
ine might mean, but she knew that praise was 
intended, and answered quickly : “ Ches’peake 
Maryland may be a lazy niggah, but I alius said 
he had brains.” And Chesapeake Maryland 
laughed a self-satisfied laugh. 

It was a joyous party which rode past the 
fortifications and into Murfreesboro, — all, at 
least, except the prisoners. Many were the 
cheers that rent the air as the cavalcade dashed 
through the camp up to General Thomas’s head- 
quarters. “ Hurrah for George Knight ! ” 
“ Three cheers for Our Boy ! ” and other cries of 
a similar nature brought a fiush of embarrass- 
ment to George’s cheek. 

“ You see how popular you are,” said Major 
Smethurst. Whereat George only flushed the 
redder. 

We can well imagine what cordial greetings 
the boy received from General Thomas. There 


At the Right Moment 287 

were tears in the latter’s eyes as he embraced 
George with a warmth of manner that seemed 
very surprising in one whose behavior, as a rule, 
had about it something of coldness. Thomas 
had, in reality, as kind a heart as ever beat under 
a soldier’s coat, and on rare occasions he could 
be demonstrative. 

How intently interested he was, to be sure, 
when he listened to the recital of George’s 
adventures, and how his face shone when 
Major Smethurst described the rescue of the 
lad. 

“ That was a glorious bit of strategy,” cried 
the General. Hor was he wrong in his praise. 
The idea of getting George in a room safe from 
the outlaws, so that he could not be shot, and 
then bringing on the cavalry, was as cleverly 
conceived as it was brilliantly put into execution. 

“ So this Kearfoot shot himself," said the Gen- 
eral. “ What’s to be done with the other 
rascals ? ” 

“Hanging’s too good for them,” observed 
Smethurst. 

“Exactly,” answered Thomas, with a smile. 
“ A little hard work will be greater punishment.” 


288 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Thus it happened that during the remainder of 
the war the ex-outlaws were made to serve in the 
arm}^ as ordinary day laborers, so that between 
digging in trenches, driving mules, acting as 
stablemen or otherwise playing the part of 
drudges, they got no end of work. At the close 
of the war they disappeared, but it is understood 
that Charlie, at least, became a respectable citi- 
zen and was the mayor of a town in Montana 
when he died. 

As we have seen the last of “ poor ole Chloe ” 
and Chesapeake Maryland, so far as this story is 
concerned, let us add that a number of the army 
officers, headed by General Thomas, made up a 
fund from which a small annuity was purchased 
that enabled her to pass the remainder of her 
days in what was, for her at least, comparative 
luxury. She established herself in a cozy little 
cabin near her family, and took Chesapeake 
Maryland to live with her. Chesapeake was soon 
known far and wide as “ the man who helped 
save George Knight,” and many were the dimes 
and quarters which he secured, after the war, by 
telling the story of that famous day in the out- 
laws^ house. Kor did the recital lose anything 


At the Right Moment 289 

in its thrilling details as time went on and his 
memory became treacherous. Indeed, towards 
the last Chesapeake figured as the only hero of 
the rescue. 


CHAPTEK X 

ONE MORE ADVENTURE 

Hardly had a week elapsed since his rescue 
from Kearfoot and his men ere George met with 
another and somewhat different adventure which 
came near ending his military career. He had 
been presented with a horse by General Thomas. 
It was a pretty four-year-old, a red roan, and, 
having fallen in love with it at once, like any 
healthy young fellow who liked animals, he spent 
all his spare time trotting around camp in an en- 
deavor to exercise it. But trotting around the 
camp was neither entertaining nor satisfying ; so 
George determined to take a spin out into the 
open country. This was not a safe thing to do, 
perhaps, for, now and then, parties of Confeder- 
ates would swoop down near the Union outposts 
and engage in a fight with Northern soldiers. 
But the roan was so frisky, and “ seemed so in 
want of variety of life,” as his master remarked, 
290 


One More Adventure 


291 

that he resolved to get away from the monotony 
of the camp, if only for an hour. 

Thus it came about that one sunny afternoon, 
when he had leave of absence from General 
Thomas, George Knight rode past the fortifica- 
tions to the southward, and raced his horse 
across open fields, over fences, and little streams, 
until he came to a certain country lane. Here 
he brought the roan to a walk, as he ambled 
leisurely up the road. The twitter of a bird here 
and there told him that spring in the South 
would soon be upon them, and the atmosphere 
had a lazy, languorous effect upon the boy. The 
horse, which was in a great perspiration, not un- 
naturally, seemed content to take no more vio- 
lent exertion. 

‘‘ You’re a nice animal,” said George, patting 
the roan’s head, as they went on, “and justify 
your name of Abraham Lincoln.” 

Just then “Abraham Lincoln” shied. The 
boy looked to see the cause of the trouble, and 
discovered a girl of about fifteen sitting on the 
outside of a hedge along the, lane. As George 
approached she jumped hastily to her feet. He 
took off his cap as he passed her, while she, ob- 


292 With Thomas in Tennessee 

serving his blue uniform closely, seemed to hesi- 
tate for a moment as to whether or not she 
should recognize the salute. The hesitation was 
only momentary, however. 

“ Wait a minute,” she cried. George reined 
in his horse, and she was almost immediately 
alongside his saddle. “ What can I do for you ? ” 
he asked, in his most gallant tone. The girl was 
very pretty ; she had dark hair and eyes, and 
her complexion was far rosier than that of the 
average Tennessee maiden. Yet there was a 
stern expression about her mouth which rather 
detracted from her more graceful qualities. 

“ You belong to the Federal camp ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Yes,” answered the rider. 

“ Do you think I could sell milk in the camp ? ” 
She turned away her bright eyes as she put the 
question ; she was not anxious, for some reason, 
to look ‘‘ Abraham Lincoln’s ” master in the face. 

But George did not notice this reluctance. 
There was something magical to him in the very 
name of milk, an article which was scarce, to say 
the least, in the Union camp. He was fond of it, 
and he seldom got as much as he liked. “ By 


One More Adventure 


293 

Jove,” he said, “the more milk you bring to us 
the better we’ll like it ! ” 

“ If you’ll come up to my father’s farmhouse, 
just above here,” said the girl, “ I’ll give you 
all the milk you can drink.” She pointed to the 
right of the road, where, a quarter of a mile 
back, stood a frame house and some outbuildings, 
hemmed in by cottonwood trees and a few 
cedars. 

Had she invited him to drink the nectar of the 
gods the idea could not have been more delight- 
ful. “I feel as if I could drink four or five 
quarts of milk,” laughed the lad. “We don’t 
get much milk in camp, you know.” 

“So I thought,” returned the stranger. 
“ That’s why I asked you. Will you come ? ” 

“ To your house ? Indeed I will. But I hope 
you’ve plenty of milk there.” 

“Never fear,” laughed the girl. “We don’t 
keep half a dozen cows for nothing.” 

Within ten minutes George had reached the 
farmhouse on foot, while the girl, to whom, in 
the excess of his politeness, he had lent “ Abra- 
ham Lincoln” to ride, was already on hand to 
greet him. The place was neither attractive nor 


294 With Thomas in Tennessee 

pretentious ; it Avas nothing more or less than a 
two-story structure Avith a front door flanked on 
either side by a Avindow. Dirty yelloAV shades 
hung from the latter. 

“ Come in, stranger ? ’’ asked the hostess, in a 
voice Avhich Avas meant to be very cordial. She 
had already hitched “ Abraham Lincoln ’’ to a 
post in front of the house. 

George followed her into the parlor, a funereal- 
looking apartment chiefly distinguished by black 
horse-hair furniture and a faded carpet. 

Stay here, and sit down a minute,” she said, 
‘‘and Ifll bring the milk.” The girl retired to 
another room, Avhile George Avalked to the man- 
telpiece and regarded a daguerreotype repre- 
senting a very tall man in high boots, Avith a 
long nose, large mouth, and mutton-chop Avhis- 
kers. Hardly had he finished the inspection of 
the picture ere there entered its original. There 
could be no doubt as to that. Perhaps the Avhis- 
kers Avere a trifle grayer than in the daguerreo- 
type, but otherAvise the man Avas unchanged. 

The farmer — for he was evidently the master 
of the house — stared very hard at the lad. Be- 
hind him came his daughter. 


One More Adventure 295 

“ Dad,” she said, “ here's a young oificer from 
the Federal camp.” She bore in her hands a 
large pan filled with milk which she proceeded to 
turn over to the visitor. 

“ Thank you,” he said, taking the pan, “ this 
seems more like home than Tennessee.” He 
drained the pan, then handed it back to the girl. 
He was about to add a few words of gratitude 
when the farmer suddenly threw himself upon 
the boy, bore him to the ground and sat upon 
his chest, at the same time that he seized his 
throat with two horny hands. 

“You rascal!” cried the man, as he drew 
George’s pistol from his belt, and threw it across 
the room, “ now I can have my revenge on you 
miserable Yankees ! ” 

George began to choke. Seeing this, the 
farmer relinquished hold of his throat. “ Do you 
want to kill me ? ” gasped the boy. “ If so, please 
choose a more agreeable way than choking me to 
death.” He saw the daughter gazing at him in- 
tently. Was it a look of remorse that he de- 
tected in her face ? 

“ Oh, don’t be worried,” sneered the man ; “ I 
won’t kill you. Some others may — but not I.” 


296 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ Well, then, would you mind getting off my 
chest.” The farmer only smiled. ‘‘What do 
you want with me, anyway ? ” continued George. 

“ I’ll tell yon exactly what I want with you,” 
hissed the farmer. His voice was as harsh and 
grating as that of his daughter was soft and melo- 
dious. “ Since last week I’ve had a grudge against 
every Northern soldier in the whole United 
States.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because I had a son — an only son, and the 
finest fellow that ever lived — who was a captain 
in Yan Dorn’s camp, and he was shot as a spy 
by order of General Kosecrans. He went into 
Murfreesboro in disguise to seek information, and 
because he wasn’t in uniform some of 3"our fel- 
lows had him murdered. So I vowed if ever I 
caught any of you blue coats I’d have my revenge. 
And you promised to help me, didn’t you, 
Lavinia ? ” 

The girl, Lavinia, hung her head. She had 
been furious when she heard of the death of her 
brother ; she had taken a vow to avenge his death, 
and in pursuance of that vow she had entrapped 
George Knight into her father’s house. Yet she 


One More Adventure 


297 

felt sorry already, at what she had done. The 
boy looked so young, and he had been so unsus- 
pecting that she was ashamed she had deliberately 
led him into this situation. 

“Oh, let him go, dad,” she entreated. “He’s 
only a boy.” 

“Only a boy?” echoed the farmer, in scorn. 
“Don’t get chicken-hearted, Lavinia. He’s‘ a 
Federal soldier, whether he’s a boy or a man. 
Have you forgotten your brother so soon ? ” He 
gave George a wild glance that was by no means 
reassuring. 

Miss Lavinia bowed her head in submission. 
“ All right,” she said, “ I’ll not forget my brother ; 
but get off the boy’s chest ; you are killing him.” 

The farmer rose to his feet, hastily picked 
George’s pistol from the floor, and commanded 
the boy to get up. This George did, not without 
some difficult}^, for his lungs were sore from the 
weight of his assailant. The latter turned upon 
tlie boy a look more akin to angry frenzy than 
anything else. Indeed, the death of his son had 
rendered him almost insane. Kevenge on a Fed- 
eral soldier had become a monomania. And the 
more he gazed at the boy, and realized that he 


298 With Thomas in Tennessee 

was one in the same army as the men who had 
put to death his only son, the greater became his 
fury. 

George, brave as he was, quailed like a guilty 
man under the scorching eyes of the old farmer, 
and drew back, almost involuntarily, for a step 
or two. 

“You may well step back!” sneered the 
farmer. “The men who shot my son were 
cowards — like you.” 

“ I’m not a coward ! ” responded George 
promptly, striding up to his accuser. “ As for 
your son, he was executed under the rules of war, 
just as any spy caught in the Confederate camp 
would be.” 

Here Lavinia burst into tears. The recollection 
of her brother’s death was too much for her. 
Her father uttered an oath which was evidently 
meant for George. 

“ Come,” spoke up the boy, “ I’m tired of this 
business ! What do you want to do with 
me?” 

“ I’m going to keep you here ’til dark ; then 
me and my two niggers will hitch up and drive 
you over to the nearest Confederate outpost, to be 


One More Adventure 299 

delivered over to General Yan Dorn. I reckon 
he’ll string you up in revenge for my boy 1 ” 

George gave a laugh — yes, it was unmistak- 
ably a laugh. “ The old man has certainly gone 
crazy,” he thought. Indeed, between profound 
ignorance of the rules of civilized warfare and 
the fact that his grief had unbalanced his mind, 
the farmer actually believed that if he delivered 
a prisoner over to Yan Dorn, that General 
would promptly have the aforesaid prisoner exe- 
cuted to avenge the death of the spy. 

Laugh all you want now,” cried the farmer, 
“for you’ll be cryin’ before twenty-four hour’s 
up!” 

The very next moment George did not feel 
like laughing at all. It came over him, with 
a horrible suddenness that if this crazed old fel- 
lo^\ did send him to Yan Dorn’s headquarters he 
might be recognized as the ex-farmer boy who 
had played spy in company with Eufus Carton. 
Then, indeed, his fate would be sealed. 

The thought made him desperate and gave 
him the courage of his desperation. With a 
swinging movement of his right arm he knocked 
his pistol out of the hand of the farmer and 


300 With Thomas in Tennessee 

started for the front door. He had his hand on 
the latch before the old Tennessean caught 
him. The two grappled with each other, much 
as wrestlers might have done, nor was the 
contest of long duration. The farmer was larger 
and stronger than George, naturally enough, and 
the boy’s leg was still weak, so that within 
three minutes the latter, having given up the 
fight, sat panting in a chair. 

Once more did the man pick up the pistol, but 
this time he handed it to Lavinia, who had 
looked on with tear-stained face and hands nerv- 
ously clasped together during the wrestling. 

“ Lavinia,” he said, as he plucked at his 
whiskers, “I’m goin’ to ride over to Farmer 
Compton’s. I loaned Tom and Jerry to him to 
work at chopping wood to-day, and I propose to 
bring the whole three of them back with me, 
to help take this Federal towards Yan Dorn’s 
camp to-night.” 

He produced from the mantel-shelf a roll 
of very thick twine or cordage, and seizing the 
boy’s hands, began to wrap it around and 
around his wrists, so that it actually cut into his 
flesh. He tied the two ends in a stout knot. 



“ If That Fellow Stirs While Pm Gone, Shoot Him 





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One More Adventure 


301 

he said, turning to his daughter, “if 
that fellow stirs from the chair while I’m gone, 
shoot him. I know ye’re a good shot at rabbits ! 
I’ll be back in half an hour. Do you hear what 
I say ? ” 

“Yes, dad,” replied the girl. 

“ Then see that you remember your brother ! ” 

The farmer left the room by the front way, 
but returned in less than a minute. “ Look here, 
Lavinia, you promise to do as I tell you, and not 
let the boy try to escape?” He regarded her 
with an air of some suspicion. 

“ I shall remember my brother,” answered the 
girl. The man seemed satisfied ; he turned 
away and disappeared. 

There was dead silence in the room for several 
minutes. Once “Abraham Lincoln,” who was 
becoming impatient outside, gave a neigh which 
seemed to say to George : “ Hurry up, my boy. 

I’m tired of standing out here.” And the boy 
only wished that he could act on this hint. 
Hever had the prospect of fields and trees, and 
all that makes the country beautiful, seemed 
so alluring, and so far away. 

The silence was finally broken by the girl. 


302 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ I’m sorry I set this trap for you,” she said in 
an apologetic tone. As she spoke she placed 
George’s pistol upon the mantel-shelf. 

George flushed as he answered : ‘‘ I call it a 

pretty mean trick.” 

“But, oh,” cried Lavinia, “ever since my 
brother was put to death by you Yankees, dad 
has been nearly crazy. So was I, too, for I 
loved Dick better than any one else in the 
world, better even than dad, and then mother’s 
dead these three years; and when dad talked, 
sort of wild like, about revenging Dick’s death I 
felt at first as if I could capture single-handed 
the whole Federal army, and all sorts of wicked 
thoughts came into my head. It seemed as 
if Dick had been murdered — and dad thinks so 
now — but I can see that the Confederates would 
have done no different by a Federal spy. But 
when I met you on the road I thought of Dick, 
and so I led you here.” The tears came into her 
dark eyes. It was very evident that she was 
now grieved at the success of her ruse. 

“ You needn’t apologize,” remarked George, in 
a sarcastic vein. The twine about his wrists 
hurt him extremely and his temper was none of 


One More Adventure 303 

the best at the moment. “ You have gotten me 
here, and there’s an end of the whole matter.” 
He had a vague thought of trying to escape, but 
a look at his tied hands and that pistol on the 
mantel shelf dissuaded him from the idea. 

Miss Lavinia moved uneasily about the room. 
“ Somehow,” she said, as if she were trying to 
argue out a point in her own mind, “I don’t 
know that Dick would have liked me to do this.” 

“ I’m sure he wouldn’t,” answered the prisoner, 
‘‘ if he was an honorable Confederate soldier, as 
I am sure he was.” 

“Dick was the kindest-hearted fellow that ever 
lived,” exclaimed the girl, with pathetic enthusi- 
asm. “ Why, at the battle of Stone’s Kiver he 
spared the life of a Yankee soldier.” 

“ Then you may be sure that your brother was 
not the man to approve of what you and your 
father have done.” 

Lavinia put a hand to her head like one who is 
torn by conflicting emotions. And so she was. 
Her earlier passion to be avenged for Dick’s 
death had been succeeded by the thought that 
she had done a gross wrong to an innocent boy. 
“ But even if dad does have you sent to General 


304 With Thomas in Tennessee 

Yan Dorn they won’t do anything to you, will 
they ? ” she continued, trying to appease her 
conscience. “ Dad thinks that you will be put 
to death, but he isn’t responsible now for what 
he thinks,” she added, with a sigh. 

George hesitated how to reply. At last he 
said, “ Can I trust you to keep a secret, or must 
I look upon you as an enemy ? ” 

“ You can trust me,” cried the girl eagerly. 

Well, then, if I get into Yan Dorn’s clutches 
I will be executed, and in short order. For I 
have already been in his camp as a spy, and am 
subject to just the same fate there as your 
brother Dick met with at Murfreesboro. So you 
may consider your revenge a very appropriate 
one. We both die as spies ! ” 

“ No, no,” said Lavinia in excitement. “ Don’t 
speak to me again of revenge. Never, never ! I 
have done wrong, and I have been wrong, too, in 
encouraging dad. I see it all now, and I see 
that Dick would never have wanted me to play 
this trick on any one. It’s not war ; it’s only 
treachery.” As she finished speaking there came 
another impatient neigh from “Abraham Lin- 
coln.” 


One More Adventure 


305 

“ It’s a pity you didn’t have this change of 
heart before you ran across me,” muttered the 
boy. 

“ It’s not too late ! ” she cried. “ Go ! I free 
you ! ” With that she dashed out of the room, 
and returning, in the twinkling of an eye, with 
a sharp carving knife, she proceeded to cut the 
heavy twine that bound George’s wrists. As the 
twine fell away he gave an exclamation of relief. 
It had cut hard and deep. 

“ Now be off with you ! ” commanded Lavinia, 
“ before I change my mind. You know a woman 
is privileged to change her mind, and so I may 
do it before long.” She laughed ; it seemed as 
if she were delighted now that she had decided 
to take the responsibility of releasing her 
prisoner. 

The first impulse of George was to fiy to the 
door, leave the house and mount “ Abraham 
Lincoln ” without another word. He had been 
enticed into captivity by this Tennessean girl; 
why should he show any feeling when she re- 
lented and gave him his liberty ? 

But this very liberty was due to the conscien- 
tiousness and good instincts of the girl. Surely 


306 With Thomas in Tennessee 

he owed her some consideration. Had she not, 
by releasing him, placed herself in a most un- 
pleasant, not to say dangerous, situation ? 

He rose from his chair. “ I thank you ever so 
much for letting me go,” he said, bowing to the 
girl, “ but what will become of you when your 
father comes back and finds you have sent me 
away ? ” 

He felt that the old farmer was half-demented, 
and he feared that his daughter might be in 
danger of his fury when he returned to find that 
the bird had flown. 

Lavinia started. In her burst of impetuosity 
this contingency had not occurred to her. She 
had been so intent on saving the young lieuten- 
ant from the fate of a spy that her own fate had 
not been heeded. Then she gave a little shiver. 
“ If dad comes home and finds I have let you 

go ! ” She said no more, but the stop was 

full of eloquence. 

‘‘I’ll tell you what will happen,” spoke up 
George. “ Your father’s mind has gone daft on 
the subject of his son. If he returns and learns 
that you have deliberately freed me he may — ^he 
may kill you ! ” 


One More Adventure 307 

Lavinia confronted George with calm, serene 
eyes. She had become self-composed, suddenly 
enough. “ Then let him kill me,” she answered. 
“ I had no right to trap you, and if he does me 
any harm I am only being paid up for what I 
have done.” 

George knew that he had only to walk out of 
the door, to mount “ Abraham Lincoln ” and he 
was free. He knew, too, that he owed no debt 
or duty to this pretty girl, who had been the 
cause of his capture. Yet there was in his dis- 
position an innate chivalry — call it compassion 
if you will — which made him loath to leave Miss 
Lavinia to the uncertain anger of her father. 
“Dad” was evidently in a mental condition 
where rage and disappointment might lead him 
to do anything. 

“ I can’t leave you,” he said very simply. “ The 
old man may murder you when he comes home.” 

“ Hot if I can convince him that I tried to 
stop your going away,” answered Lavinia. 

“ But how can you do that ? ” 

She walked to the mantel, took the revolver 
from the shelf, and asked placidly : “ Is this 
pistol loaded ? ” 


308 With Thomas in Tennessee 

“ Of course it is,” responded George. 

There came a loud report. When the smoke 
cleared away George saw Lavinia standing in 
front of the fireplace holding the pistol in her 
right hand. From her left arm, above the elbow, 
blood was pouring upon the white sleeve of her 
muslin dress. 

“ Gracious ! ” cried the boy. “ What have 
you been doing ? ” He was lost in astonishment. 
He rushed to assist her, but the girl waved him 
away. ‘‘ Don’t be worried,” she explained, “ it’s 
only a flesh wound, and I shot myself on purpose. 
When dad comes home I’ll tell him you escaped, 
and shot me in order to get away. He’ll never 
suspect then, — not when he sees the wound in 
my arm.” 

George’s sentiments were half admiration and 
half gratitude. He had admiration for the 
bravery and brains of Miss Lavinia and gratitude 
for what she was doing for him. 

“ Can’t I do something for your wound ? ” he 
asked. ‘‘ Let me make a tourniquet ? ” 

‘‘ Hot a bit of it,” she replied, almost laugh- 
ingly. “ That would spoil the whole story for 
dad. How could I explain how the wound had 


One More Adventure 


309 

been touched by you ? No j let it alone until he 
comes back, and then we’ll send for the doctor. 
You needn’t be worried; I knew exactly where 
to shoot myself with the least danger. I am an 
old hand at the gun or pistol.” 

The ex-prisoner came forward and grasped 
the wounded Lavinia’s right hand. How can 
I ever thank you,” he said feelingly, “ for what 
you have done for me ? ” 

“ You have nothing to thank me for,” answered 
Lavinia. She drew away her hand, wherein was 
the pistol, which she replaced upon the mantel- 
shelf. “ It was I who got you into this scrape, 
and ’twas my duty to get you out of it.” 

George looked at the blood crimsoning her 
sleeve. “ I can’t leave you in your present con- 
dition,” he declared. 

An expression of pleasure crossed the girl’s 
handsome face, but it was almost immediately 
succeeded by one of determination. “ You must 
mount your horse at once — at once, I say. If you 
don’t go now you’ll meet dad coming back with 
the negroes ! Go, or I’ll shoot myself again, and 
the wound will be more severe the next time.” 
She seized his pistol, put it into his belt, with her 


310 With Thomas in Tennessee 

right hand, and fairly dragged him to the door. 
“ Quick ! ” she cried. But hardly had she thrown 
it open than she uttered a scream and closed it. 
“ They are riding up the road,” she said ; dad, 
Farmer Compton and Tom and Jerry. You 
must hide until I send them away on a false 
chase after you.” 

She opened the door leading into the kitchen, 
and pointed to a ring in the floor. ‘‘ Pull it up,” 
she commanded. George entered the room, and 
taking hold of the ring, raised a plank about 
three and a half feet square. Below him was a 
short staircase leading into the cellar. “ Go 
down there until I let you out,” she said, and the 
boy, having obediently descended into a pitch- 
dark region, heard the plank close above 
him. 

Lavinia hastened back to the front room, just 
as the men drew up to the house. She threw 
herself on a sofa and would have pretended 
weakness were it not that there was no necessity 
for such pretense. She felt exhausted from loss 
of blood. 

Having dismounted and hitched their horses 
outside, Lavinia’s father, two burly negroes and 


One More Adventure 3 1 1 

an unhealthy, gray-haired little man, evidently 
Farmer Compton, burst into the room. 

“ Why Lavinia ! ” cried her father, in horror, 
‘‘ what’s this ? ” 

“ The boy got his hands free,” she said faintly 
(and in the faintness of voice there was no act- 
ing), and got the pistol away and shot me. 
Then he escaped. It’s only a little hurt in the 
arm.” 

The farmer was down on his knees tenderly 
examining Lavinia’s wound. 

Why didn’t he take his horse ? ” asked Comp- 
ton. 

For a second she was nonplused. She had 
forgotten about the presence, outside, of “ Abra- 
ham Lincoln.” But only for a second. “ He ran 
out the back way,” she answered; “I think he 
reckoned ’twas safer to skulk along to camp on 
foot than to risk being seen on horseback. All 
of you ride back of the farm, before he has time 
to get away altogether.” 

The farmer told Compton and the two negroes 
to follow the boy ; he would stay with Lavinia. 
The three were soon riding over the country in 
the rear of the farm, 


312 With Thomas in Tennessee 

When the door closed upon them Lavinia said : 
‘‘ Father, you must go for the doctor.” 

“ But I can’t leave you alone, dearest.” In his 
love for the living child he had forgotten, for the 
time being, the wrongs of the dead one. 

“ You must, dad, or I may bleed to death.” 

At this awful prospect the man rose, and tear- 
ing out of the house like one demented, mounted 
his horse and galloped off to the nearest physi- 
cian, half a mile away. 

“ Heaven forgive me for the lies I have been 
obliged to tell,” murmured Lavinia. “ But it was 
all to save a life.” She rose from the sofa, not 
without difficulty, and crept into the kitchen. 
Twice she tried to raise the iron ring in the floor, 
but she staggered back. The third time she was 
more successful; she drew up the plank, and 
called to George. He came up the dark stairway. 
The girl’s face, as he saw, was now deathly pale; 
she put her unhurt arm before her eyes as if she 
felt di^y. 

“ You are faint I ” cried George. His voice 
was full of anxiety ; he quite forgot his own dan- 
ger. 

Lavinia tottered, and the boy caught her in 


One More Adventure 


3^3 

his arms. But she quickly recovered herself, and 
walked slowly into the front room. The boy fol- 
lowed. “ I can’t leave you as you are now,” he 
said. 

The girl threw herself on the sofa. “ Dad has 
gone for the doctor,” she answered, ‘‘ and when 
he comes I’ll be all right. I’m only weak from 
loss of blood. If you stay here now you’ll be 
staying for your death — and that would make me 
a murderess ! The coast is clear, if you ride your 
horse out of the front of the farm. Then you 
can make a run for your camp. Hurry ! ” 

George saw the force of this reasoning. 
“ Good-bye, and God bless you ! ” he said after a 
moment’s pause. He forgot that this Tennessean 
had trapped him ; he only remembered, with true 
chivalry, that she was now saving him. He only 
saw a wounded girl who had shot herself to help 
him. He leaned over the sofa, actuated by a 
sudden impulse, and kissed her ; then he hurried 
out of the house. “ Abraham Lincoln ” gave a 
neigh of delight. 

“ All right, old fellow,” called out his master ; 
there’s an extra lot of oats waiting for you when 
we get in camp.” “ Abraham Lincoln ” whinnied 


314 With Thomas in Tennessee 

in joyful response, and was soon galloping with 
George towards camp. Half an hour later, 
Thomas Langhorne, Lavinia’s father, arrived with 
the ph^'sician. They found the girl unconscious. 
The physician administered restoratives, brought 
her back to life, and examined the wound. It’s 
nothing serious,” he said cheerfully, and he 
proved to be a true prophet. 

Then there entered, later on, from the rear of 
the farm, Compton and the two negroes. They 
could find no traces, they said, of the young Fed- 
eral soldier. 

‘‘ And his horse is gone,” observed Langhorne. 
“ It was gone when I got back from the doctor’s. 
He must have been hiding near the house some- 
where, and sneaked back and ridden off.” 

This theory met with general acceptance, nor 
did Lavinia ever contradict it. And it was no- 
ticeable that after the wounding of his daughter 
the farmer never evinced any further desire to be 
revenged for the death of his son. He evidently 
concluded that one experience of this kind was 
enough, and his mind, once so unbalanced by the 
tragedy, became more normal. But he insisted 
until the last that the Yankees had hair on their 


One More Adventure 315 

teeth and always ate pie for breakfast. In his 
eyes Dick’s execution remained a crime. 

****** 

When George galloped into Murfreesboro, and 
reached the headquarters of George H. Thomas, 
the General remarked, after the boy had re- 
counted his latest escapade : “ My dear George, 
we shall be obliged to put a collar and chain on 
you unless you promise to keep near camp.” 

The bo\^ laughed. “ Never fear,” he said ; 
‘‘I’ll take warning by my latest adventure.” 
And he wondered how Lavinia Langhorne was 
feeling, and if the doctor had arrived quickly. 
He wished that he might be able to ride back 
and inquire for the young lady. But that was, 
of course, impossible. 

Indeed, as the events of war decreed, it was 
not until many months afterwards that George 
Knight was able to renew his acquaintance, so 
curiously commenced, with Lavinia Langhorne. 
In the meantime he continued to serve with 
credit on the staff of General Thomas. He was 
present at the great contest of Chickamauga, 
where Thomas earned the title of the “ Kock of 
Chickamauga”; and he was with the General 


316 With Thomas in Tennessee 

throughout all his actions which ended, so far as 
great results were concerned, in the famous 
Nashville campaign. When the war had come 
to an end one of the first things that George 
Knight did was to pay a visit to Murfreesboro. 
He drove over to the Langhorne farm but found 
strangers in possession of the place. He learned 
that Thomas Langhorne had died six months be- 
foi’e, and that his daughter had gone to live with 
a maiden aunt at a farm about two miles to the 
southward. 

George turned his horse’s head in this new 
direction. It was not long before he was enter- 
ing the place. At the gateway stood a very 
pretty young woman. It was none other than 
Mistress Lavinia Langhorne. She was perhaps 
an inch taller than when we last saw her, and 
undeniably handsomer. 

George leaned out of the wagon. “ Do 
you know me. Miss Langhorne?” he asked 
eagerly. 

The girl looked at him. “ Why it’s the boy I 
tricked ! ” she cried. ‘‘ Only you’re a man now.” 
And she blushed so that she looked like a 
peony. 


One More Adventure 317 

It may be imagined that this was not the last 
meeting of the two young persons. Indeed, we 
are violating no confidences when we tell our 
readers that Lavinia Langhorne became, in the 
course of several years, Mrs. George Knight. 
George often says that of all the lucky things 
the Civil War brought him the best of all was 
“ a Confederate wife.” 

What more of our story remains to tell? 
Nothing perhaps, save that Kufus Carton and 
Major Smethurst came out of the war with some 
wounds and much glory. So, too, did the horse, 
‘‘Abraham Lincoln,” who lived to a good old 
age, and was followed to the grave, when he 
died, by the mourning Knight family. The 
career of General Thomas is a matter of history. 
He died suddenly at San Francisco, in March, 
1870, while in command of the Military Division 
of the Pacific. His old friend. General William 
T. Sherman, said of him : 

“ The quality in him, which I hold up for the 
admiration and example of the young, is his 
complete and entire devotion to duty. . . . 
In battle he never wavered . . . and he 
never sought advancement of rank or honor at 


318 With Thomas in Tennessee 

the expense of any one. The very impersona- 
tion of honesty, integrity, and honor, he will 
stand to us as the beau ideal of soldier and gen- 
tleman.” 


THE END 



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